


The Fall of Adam

by lilien passe (lilienpasse)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Class Differences, Drama, M/M, Post WWI AU, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-26
Updated: 2014-03-29
Packaged: 2018-01-17 16:04:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 180,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1393810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilienpasse/pseuds/lilien%20passe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ludwig is a farm hand working for a manor house and is not content with his station. Gilbert is an earl's son and is far too content. Post WWI AU. [NOW COMPLETE]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. (A)pple

**Author's Note:**

> so in lieu of working on any of my other ficlets i have lying around i have decided to write whatever came to mind to try and ease myself back into writing. this was supposed to be a one shot but too much downton abbey and a scary lightning storm are somehow combining and encouraging me to attempt a multiparter again. i’m going to try and write a short chapter about this length every day this week. so if this reads as though it was forced
> 
> well
> 
> it was
> 
> still i hope the stupid faux-pretentious writing doesn’t make anyone fly into a murderous rage. also please keep in mind that this is an exercise in speed writing. perfection is so not my goal.
> 
> also nothing really happens in this chapter i’m sorry.

It was fitting that they were apples.

The manor’s orchard was small, only ten or twelve trees, but their branches were heavy with fruit. In spring they bore fragrant flowers, but as summer neared its end and the air grew stiflingly hot the blossoms were eaten by ruby fruit, and one by one they were either plucked by obedient hands or fell to rot. The fetid stench mingled with the humid air and choked the air on the path to and from the fields.  
The fence around the orchard was white and clean with tufts of sweet grass crowding the posts where the gardener grew too lazy to edge. It was not a strong fence. One solid kick could uproot its hold on the earth and open a path to the trees beyond. But still the men on their way to work were as a complacent Eve, heavy-lidded eyes gazing wistfully at the shade and the bright apples before resigning themselves to the dust of the fields. Without a serpent to enlighten them most clung to their easy ignorance. They would gather at the edge of the field and eat their lunches shaded by wispy stalks and clouds of dust.

Ludwig ate his lunch by the fence, far away from the other farm hands. He was a relative newcomer to the group, newcomer meaning the ten years of experienced he had paled in comparison to the multi-generational workers who had toiled for the earl since before Victoria. They were kind enough people, but he was an outsider to their town, and they put forth little effort to hide the distance. So Ludwig would sit atop one of the fence posts along the path and stare at the tree as he tore into the bread he carried with him.

Beyond the trees lay the manor, but no one ever came from that far away. Ludwig had only seen the family at the annual Christmas party. The earl held the gathering for all the field hands, the maids, the butler, the valets. The earl was a kind man and treated his workers well, and the party was the jewel in his self-imposed crown of benevolence. To all other comers, it was an uncomfortable affair at first before the wine began to flow and the earl’s child and his cousins were absolute monsters who would make snide comments under their breath until their mother, the true saint of the earl’s family, would box them lightly around the ears and demand sweetly that they behave. The rest of the field hands seemed to enjoy themselves and would dance with the maids and exchange gossip with the house workers. Ludwig had to wonder if it was only he who found the whole thing an absolute sham. Maybe that was why he had not attended one in years, politely declining every time in favor of a quiet meal alone in his modest house where there were no earls and no earl ladies and no teen-aged children to mock him now that there was no longer a war for them to suffer and mature through.

Maybe that was why he started taking the apples.

One lunch break, with sweat dripping into his eyes and his fingernails aching from the grit lodged underneath them and the smell of fallen apples in his brain he found himself moving against his will. He slid off the post and walked the twelve paces to the edge of the small orchard. His boots kicked aside rotten fruit and twigs as he searched through the tall grass.

Nestled among the roots was a single intact apple, its skin a dull crimson luster.

Ludwig bent down and picked it up and walked the twelve paces back to the fence. Back to his side where he was allowed to stand and eat an apple that had mysteriously appeared in the palm of his hand. He shined it on his shirt until it gleamed, the smooth surface catching the white clouds above and twisting them into carnival shapes.

He imagined the earl’s kind face as his teeth ripped open the apple’s skin.

The next day had been easier to hop the fence. Small white splinters lodged themselves deep in his palm and he tugged them out with blunted fingernails as he combed the tall grass. He took two apples and shoved one in his pocket before returning to the other side. The earl and his family wouldn’t eat them anyway. Not the ones that had fallen to the ground. He considered it a charity what he was doing. Saving the gardener the extra work of gathering the rotten fruit and disposing it on the unclean side of the fence.

Each day that week the number of apples on the ground were decimated until only the worm tenements remained. On the eighth day Ludwig sat on the fence and stared at the apples still clinging stubbornly to the branches. The gardener had already come and gone, plucking several to bring into the earl’s larder. The house staff only ate the branch apples as well. They made them into pies and pastries and carved them into beautiful roses to catch the interest of the family. When the house staff came into town on their days off they would stand outside the bar and smoke and gossip about the earl and his child, his nieces and nephews he had taken in. Picky children, the lot of them, although they were hardly children any longer. The newest maid called them a pack of brats and was promptly walloped by the head housekeeper, although once the younger staff had left the housekeeper raised her eyes to the heavens and asked for forgiveness before admitting the accuracy of the young girl’s complaints. The earl was too soft on them. Ludwig would drink his beer and listen to their conversation and wonder why anyone would choose to live in the house they served. To have no privacy outside of a town bar was an abhorrent thought. Better to be poor and free.

And a thief of simple luxury, apparently.

Ludwig eyed the ripe fruit on the branch and licked his dry lips, thoughts of the hours ahead in the field and his studies at home spurring him on.

The fence was worn now from hundreds of splinters that had been torn away, and it made it easier every time to cross. The trees’ branches bent to him, and he paused underneath the nearest one to reach up and pluck a fruit. His rough fingers curled around the dull skin and the branch protested its separation for a long moment before relinquishing the fruit with an angry snap. Ludwig turned the apple over in his palm before pocketing it and turning to head back to the fence.

“What are you doing?”

A curious, coarse voice rang out through the orchard. Ludwig froze before turning to find its source, hoping a member of the house staff had come down to collect the fruit.

Peering around the farthest tree, a pair of dark ruby eyes stared at him, and Ludwig’s blood ran colder still. Although he had not seen the boy in years (not since the last ill-fated Christmas party) the youth’s build and coloring was unmistakable.

Ludwig took off his cap and politely inclined his head, the apple in his pocket feeling as though it had turned to gold.

“Good afternoon, my lord.”

The earl’s son took a few steps closer, one pale eyebrow raised in mild disdain.

“I did not ask for the time of day, nor whether or not it was a particularly good one,” he said idly, kicking a fallen apple towards the other man. “I asked you what you are doing, field hand.”

Ludwig fell silent, searching for a suitable answer, but before he could formulate one the youth moved forward again, a wicked grin on his face.

“And what is that you have in your pocket there? Surely it isn’t something from my father’s fields. Or perhaps his orchard…”

Ludwig did not respond, but his hands twisted the fabric of his cap slightly. He finally straightened his back and met the young man’s gaze with an even one of his own.

“A single apple,” he said quietly.

The earl’s son bared his teeth in amusement and slinked through the grass.

“You stole,” he murmured, sounding absolutely delighted. “My father will fire you the moment he hears of this. A farm hand sneaking into the family grounds. Oh it’s unprecedented. Ah, actually that is a rather bold-faced lie. The last man to steal from my father is most likely still in Siberia. Poor fellow. His wife cried for days.” He gave a dramatic sigh and then burst into wicked laughter. “Or the au pair. Although that was more a flight of fancy on my cousin’s part. She was cross with her and it seemed too easy a ploy to plant the seed of doubt in my father’s ear.”

Ludwig felt his temper boil, but managed to contain himself. He fished the apple out of his pocket rested it in his palm.

“I have served your father loyally since I served abroad when I was eighteen,” he said tersely, straightening. “Ten years of faithful work for a single apple. Your father is not so petty a man but I can see he has not raised you with those same values.”

He tossed the apple at the young lord’s feet and turned to hop over the fence again when something struck his back. He glanced over his shoulder to see the earl’s son glaring at him, his pallid cheeks flushed.

“How dare you address me so brazenly?” he snapped, picking up another apple to hurl at the man. Ludwig caught it easily and let the apple fall to the ground, an unimpressed look on his face.

“You are a little old to be throwing apples, my lord,” he said politely, doffing his cap again, his temper once again barely in check despite years of enduring rigorous humiliation. “And I would not want your mother to hear of you overexerting yourself. My lady is an anxious soul. I doubt she would fault even a farm hand for showing concern for his lord’s son.”

The earl’s son opened his mouth again, no doubt to snarl and howl his displeasure when something flashed across his eyes and he took a step back into the shadow of the orchard. He pressed his lips in a thin line, and Ludwig noticed the red eyes darting back to stare almost fearfully at the manor over the ground’s manicured hills.

Ludwig waited the appropriate amount of time and then said politely, “Perhaps a bit of discretion would be appropriate on both sides of the fence, my lord. If I may be so bold.”

“What? Oh –” The young lord looked uncharacteristically unsure before he puffed up his chest and said haughtily, “I see no reason to deign myself to make deals with a farm boy. Even one several years my senior. I will see you canned. I hope your brief foray was worth your job.”

With that, the spindly youth turned on his heel and picked his way back through the trees, heading towards the distant manor. Ludwig watched him go before climbing over the fence. He would be fired. The earl was a kind man, but someone as insignificant as Ludwig with no one among the house staff to vouch for him would not last even a single transgression. Even personally knowing the earl would not be enough. Ludwig briefly toyed with the idea of abandoning the day’s work, but duty nagged at him like a petulant sore, and he headed back to the fields,

But not before reaching through the fence and pocketing the apple that had been thrown at him.

Even a small victory helped soothe his pride.


	2. S(a)nctuary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in which there may be actual plot on the horizon and no one knows what gilbert is up to, least of all me, and also in which i feel sorry for ludwig being so disenfranchised with everything. and also in which i am regretting my pretentious naming method as always.

It was not until church the following Sunday that Ludwig saw him again.

The thick stone walls ensured the inside air was always chilled and damp, even when every able body in the town was standing shoulder to shoulder in the aisles. In winter you could see your breath, and in summer one half expected tiny rainclouds to be lingering up among the rafters. The simple stone statutes of Mary and Jesus (relics from when the Church had answered more to Italy than to the whims of any hereditary-crazed king) had moss growing in their ears. Ludwig found their green deafness ironic in a jaded sort of way. The vicar was a nearsighted man, and while he lovingly tended the statues’ feet and ankles with disconcerting devotion, perhaps he thought the green glow was one of divinity rather than the efforts of lichen colonies and never fetched a stepladder to finish the job.  
That day the sky was black as pitch patch-worked by zealous lightning bolts. His fellow farm hands stood quietly in the back of the building, mimicking the actions of their betters in the pews, but every so often a rogue eye would flit to the side to stare at the torrents of rain bejeweling the stained glass. Sunday was their day of reprieve. To have it usurped by a freak thunderstorm was too much for some, and they cursed under their breath before casting a fearful glance at mossy statues. As though any thing, divinity or otherwise, could hear around that mass of greenery.

Ludwig kept his hands folded, murmuring along with the rest of the congregation when prompted. Every so often he would lift his head to study the seated congregation before looking away again. His fellow workers considered him a devout man. They were under the impression that taciturn solemnity was equivalent to piety, and that when he lifted his head it was to receive divine inspiration from the cross affixed to the far wall beyond the tabernacle.

Ludwig simply didn’t bother to correct them.

The church was neatly divided into ranks, mirroring the manor house and township surrounding it. The farm hands stood in the back and were made to feel gracious for the pittance allotted to them. In the pews farthest from the tabernacle sat the house staff and gardeners and groundskeepers. Next the middling classes, the doctors and scholars who despite their schooling were kept at a distance from the Lord by virtue of birthright. In the cushioned pew closest to the vicar sat the earl and his brood. It was them that Ludwig fixated on every time he raised his head, for they were a more immediate presence than the supposed omnipresent god and at the moment a far more pressing concern than purported hellfire.

At the beginning of one of the vicar’s homilies, Ludwig took advantage of the shrew voice drowning out any sound of movement and lifted his head once more to study the shock of white hair in the farthest pew. The earl’s family was always the picture of dignity. The lords and ladies sat perfectly straight in their ironed dark clothes, hands folded in their laps, and looks of rapture on all their faces. All save the earl’s son, whose expression was more one of resignation and boredom. Every so often his mother would rest her hand atop his, and the earl’s son would straighten his back and the irritation would flee from his features for a few shrill vicar outbursts until the reedy voice assaulted the air with a particularly strident volume and the sour look would return.

Ludwig found the pattern amusing, but that was not why he was staring.

It had been a week since the unwelcome encounter in the orchard. The apple lay on the windowsill of his home, growing smaller and smaller by the day but somehow magically retaining its shape and avoiding rot. It was an apple from Carroll’s wonderland, and he had been too apprehensive to take a bite. Ludwig preferred that point of origin to the book the vicar was clutching against his thin chest. To be from Eden would be a joke. There were no red-eyed devils beyond the flaming sword, of that he was sure. Plenty in a twisted, opium-soaked chessboard.

Ludwig’s conscious gave the smallest of twinges every time he chanced to look at it. It was the guillotine poised over his neck and the earl’s gentle hand ready to rest upon his shoulder, and he was not sure which would fall.

At first he had been grateful that the young lord had apparently kept his word. Mutually assured destruction was a grisly thing, and Ludwig was surprised someone as sheltered as the lord had been able to register the benefits of silence over being a complete and utter prat.

But as the days wore on he felt the noose around his neck slowly tighten and he came to the unpleasant realization that no spoiled son could be so munificent. The apple was power, and the lord held all of it in his palm. He had seen through Ludwig’s bluff and was most likely watching him toil from the windows of the manor, rubbing his skeletal hands together and waiting for just the right moment to let slip the little secret.

It wasn’t pleasant to have your fate resting in the hands of a deviant and spoiled youth.

Ludwig fixed his eyes on the floor again as the vicar called the final Amen, and the farm hands and the rest of the men regulated to the standing room in the back quickly hurried through the exit while the rest of the congregation began the last hymn. They left before the lords and ladies had to look at them, ensuring the privileged could keep the thoughts of the more saintly and biblical poor fresh in their minds and not be distracted by the grime and stench of reality.

Ludwig leaned against the back wall as his fellow workers swarmed around him, listening to the rain strangle the hymn notes struggling for flight. There was a blade over his throat already, and in that unremarkable moment he realized the complete freedom it allowed him. With one transgression threatening to end his livelihood what power could another hold.

Ludwig stayed through the hymn, not batting an eye when the vicar gave him a cold glare on his way towards the rectory. The rest of the congregation stood en masse the moment the vicar’s presence released them from its hold and headed out of the pews, chatting amicably amongst themselves. Ludwig pushed away from the wall and slowly made his way towards the doors, the perfumes and colognes of the middling classes almost overpowering. Several ladies discretely brought their handkerchiefs to their noses as they passed him, and their husbands tightened their hands around their ladies’ shoulders, shooting him glares of suspicious. Ludwig ignored them with affected obliviousness.

In the cloister the middling classes fetched umbrellas and scarves before ducking out into the rain, but the earl’s family stayed behind, waiting for their coach. Ludwig peered out the door at the torrents of rain before ducking inside and glancing about. He had always rushed through the cloister in his haste to leave and never took note of the small confessionals and chapel off to the side. A good spot to rest under pretenses of piety and wait for the rain to lessen.

Ludwig started to move towards the chapel when a deep voice arrested his steps.

“Excuse me.”

Ludwig turned, his eyes widening as he saw the earl smiling at him, his family lined up behind him like goose children.

“My lord?”

The earl inclined his head very slightly, his hat tucked underneath his arm.

“You are one of the field hands, are you not? Working in the western area? I was on inspection the other day and I dare say your figure is memorable enough.”

Ludwig nodded in response before clearing his throat and saying a polite, “Yes, my lord.”

He caught sight of the earl’s son peering around his mother, the young lord’s thin lips curled in a smirk. He waved his thin fingers, the knowing look on his face making Ludwig’s stomach twist with anger. It was undoubtedly the moment he had been waiting for. In front of god and the vicar, neither known for their silence or kindness towards sinners. And despite (or perhaps because of) his profession the vicar was the worst gossip in the township. News of Ludwig’s thievery would be in the London papers by tomorrow and he would be blacklisted from every estate in the empire.

Ludwig let out a slow breath and braced himself. He could return to the reserves, he supposed. To India again. Their food had not agreed with him, nor did the diseases their insects carried but it was a shade better than the gallows or abject poverty. Slightly.

But anger never seized the earl’s face. Instead he carried a rather thoughtful expression as he stared at Ludwig until finally he clapped his hands in remembrance.

“You are Ludwig, correct? The only man to ever turn down an invitation to the Christmas party, albeit surprisingly politely for a farm hand.” The earl laughed and gave him a pleasant smile. “I did not take you to be such a religious man. Heading to the chapel the moment service is finished.” He raised an eyebrow and glanced outside. “Or perhaps seeking a different sort of relief.”

Ludwig toyed with the edges of his jacket, unsure how to properly respond. He could still feel the little devil’s eyes upon him.

“I am afraid you have found me out, my lord,” he said, adopting a weak and contrite smile. “On both accounts.”

“Well, it is rare that a field hand can even stand to stay for the whole service. Most of them seem to flee the moment the vicar calls amen,” the earl laughed, tilting his head as his wife said quietly, “Wolfgang, the car…”

“A moment, my dear,” he said, gracing his wife with a small smile before turning back to Ludwig, who was feeling more and more cornered by the young lord’s silence. The rest of the earl’s family seemed to be growing restless as well, and his niece and nephews glared at him from around their caretakers.

Suddenly, the earl’s son spoke up.

“Papa, isn’t the picnic for the groundskeepers and house staff next Saturday?” the young lord said absently, “Since this man has missed the last few Christmas gatherings, probably because of his intensely pious lifestyle, could he come to the picnic instead? It seems wrong to punish a man for respecting the season of his faith.”

The earl gave his son a surprised look and then clapped him on the shoulder.

“You are too right, Gilbert,” he said, smiling at Ludwig. “The picnic is normally reserved for the house workers and the garden staff – we don’t want to bother the field hands during their busiest time – but an exception could surely be made so long as it would not cause feelings of resentment among the others.”

Ludwig felt his skin grow cold, for once not due to the clammy air of the church. The young lord was smiling pleasantly at him, but his eyes were glinting with some dark mischief. But the earl’s smile was genuine and hopeful, and Ludwig realized too late how expertly he’d been trapped.

He could only nod in agreement and say very softly, “It would be my honor, my lord. Thank you.”

“Good man,” the earl said, offering his arm to his wife. “We will ensure there is a place for you among the festivities.”

With that he headed out to the car, opening the door for his wife before getting inside. His niece and nephews followed, laughing as they dashed through the rain, their good clothes quickly soaking up the mud from the deep welts in the ground the motor carriage wheels had carved.

The earl’s son lingered a moment, fixing Ludwig with a knowing grin.

“Good day, Ludwig.”

Ludwig met the boy’s eyes, his own narrowing slightly. But still he politely inclined his head, hiding his clenched fist behind his back.

“Good day, my lord.”

Gilbert smirked and strode out into the rain, ignoring his mother’s calls for him to hurry.

Ludwig waited until the sound of the car engine faded away, and then quickly stepped outside, tugging up his collar against the cold and the wet, more glad than ever to leave the church behind so he could curse the rain.


	3. Compli(a)nce

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter 3.1 because it ended up being much longer than i’d anticipated. i seem to enjoy perpetually setting up these characters for activity and then never following through. i’m sorry.
> 
> again this is a speed writing exercise and i’m writing by the seat of my pants so i hope no-one is expecting too much out of this.

A cart carrying buckets of freshly cut flowers trundled down the little road next to the orchard. The men on the way to the fields quickly moved to the side to avoid being trampled, the sweet smell of artificial spring lingering above the fetid stench of rotting fruit. Beyond the fence and the nearly barren orchard voices rang out in command, and the tops of spotless white tents could be seen rising over the gently rolling hills. The farm hands continued on towards the fields, too absorbed in speculating as to what was happening at the manor to notice that the quietest of their group had gone missing.

Ludwig had almost gotten lost on his way to the front gate. It was pathetic. Living around the manor for ten years, working its fields every day during the summer and tending to the storehouses in the winter, and he couldn’t find the front gate.  
To be fair, it was hidden among the trees of the small forest that surrounded the manor grounds. The woods were flush with game and foxes, and every other day during the summer months the sound of beagle howls and rifle shots disrupted the heavy air. Cutting through the forest was a small carriage path. When it hit the gate the rough, uneven earth became paved with meticulously placed cobblestones. The path curved sharply to the left and broke through the trees to weave among the sloping hills until it reached the second gate to the inner grounds.

Ludwig picked his way along the side of the path, his work boots – the only pair of shoes he currently owned – sticking slightly in the mud. The week before had brought a squall that lasted three days, and while the sun was currently shining overhead (much to Ludwig’s dismay) the streams and paths showed the ravages of water. A tree branch snagged at his cap, and he quickly clamped it against his head before it too could fall into the mud. Already he knew he was going to be a point of humiliation. He was wearing the cleanest thing he owned – the suit he wore to Sunday mass – but even he with his uncaring eye could see that he painted a picture of typical peasant stock. The class system had been abolished in theory, but a man’s clothes still invited scorn, regardless of what thoughts stirred underneath his threadbare hat.

There was little doubt in his mind as to the endgame of this pathetic exercise. All week he had mulled it over and came to the only possible conclusion. The young lord – the title grew more and more repulsive every time Ludwig chanced to think of it – planned to humiliate him. No amount of quick research on etiquette could save him. He was going to make a fool of himself and even if it was only in front of the house staff or even a gardener he had no doubt the young lord would be there to mock him incessantly until he lost his temper and revealed to all there the kind of disrespectful louse he was.

Needless to say, Ludwig was not looking forward to the party.

The trees broke and soon Ludwig found himself in the hills, carriages and motor cars lumbering down the path next to him carrying workers and decorations for the party. Ludwig had been too reluctant to ask about the starting time of the picnic and so he planned to hide somewhere in the gardens if he was early and to somehow slip among the crowd if he was too late. Already he could hear the pleasant hum of stringed instruments being tuned, and when he rounded the last hill and passed through the second gates he was mildly annoyed when he saw the earl’s family milling about directing workers to place groups of flowers elsewhere, approving silverware and dishes, and generally looking busy as bees. That would make it harder to sneak away and hide until the festivities started.

Ludwig stopped just inside the gate to admire the grounds. The entire front yard of the manor was a verdant paradise. It looked as though all of the manor’s greenhouses had been emptied for the occasion, and Ludwig was forced to step aside as a large potted palm passed close by him, nearly knocking off his cap. He bit his lip in mild anxiety, not relishing what was to come even if he did entirely expect it and tried to move off to the side when the earl’s wife spotted him. A look of confusion passed over her delicate features for a moment before her eyes lit up in recognition. She moved towards him, a few wisps of brown hair that had escaped from her complicated hairstyle covering her face. The lady didn’t seem to notice or particularly care. Although she barely reached Ludwig’s collarbone, her carriage made her seem as though she towered above him.

Ludwig quickly removed his cap and inclined his head as he said softly, “Good morning, my lady. I apologize for my prematurity.”

Her blue eyes crinkled slightly as she laughed. “No apology is necessary. I mistook you for one of the workers before I recognized your rather unique hairstyle.”

Ludwig’s hand automatically moved to self-consciously rest against his hair that he wore slicked back. He returned the small smile as best he could while wanting nothing more than to hide behind one of the larger plants that were being brought to line up along the canal. He fell silent as one of the hired workers came to the lady’s side to ask about another choice in silverware, but she waved the man away.

“We will go with the Christofle, as before, and please see to it that I do not have to answer the same question multiple times,” she said, her tone carrying a hint of a warning to it. The man quickly hurried away and she turned back to Ludwig, her head tilted to the side.

“I do not believe we have ever been formally introduced as I have not accompanied my husband to the fields in quite some time,” she said graciously, “And I am afraid I only know your Christian name…”

“Ludwig Schmidt,” Ludwig said quietly, bracing himself for any flack that might come his way for his last name’s origins. But the lady merely nodded and said, “Well then, Mr. Schmidt, my very best to you and thank you ever so much for attending. For some reason my son was extremely adamant in ensuring your presence. His father thinks he has a spark of the revolutionaries in him, although he has always been woefully class conscious.” She gave a delicate sigh and then graced Ludwig with another little smile.

“Do enjoy the party, Mr. Schmidt, and please do not feel shy about presenting yourself to the earl. He will be pleased that you took his invitation to heart.”

She turned to walk alongside the canal, adjusting blossoms and leaves as she went.

Ludwig let out a slow breath to try and gather his nerves before slipping off to the side. The manor house with its yellow exterior and grand marble pillars evoked more of the French Rococo aesthetic than anything inherently British, harkening to the Horschhorn family’s continental origins. The canal and waterways that divided the grounds brought water to the ornamental shrubs and greenhouses. The picnic (although nothing like any picnic Ludwig was even remotely familiar with) was being held in the front of the house, so naturally Ludwig headed in the opposite direction, quickly losing himself among the statuary of the inner gardens. He paused in front of a curious carving of a youth plummeting through the air, and before he even took note of the broken wings trailing from the boy’s back knew the statue to be one of Icarus. The marble was carved in stunning detail, and before he could catch himself Ludwig reached out to brush his rough fingertips over the look of surprised horror on the boy’s face. Betrayed by his father’s design. The poor sap.

“Enjoying yourself?”

Ludwig quickly pulled his hand away, cursing softly as he glanced over his shoulder. The earl’s son was standing underneath a topiary arch, tossing an apple from hand to hand. The boy took a quick bite and strode forward to rap the statue’s forehead with his knuckles.

“Hideous, isn’t it? Greek myths are so overdone and pedantic. Anachronistic statues of them even more so.”

Ludwig remained silent, regretting more than ever every poor decision that had brought him there. The young lord took another enthusiastic bite of the apple before tossing the rest into the bushes. He licked the juice from his fingers with a cat-like tongue.

“And you’re rather brazen for an invited guest,” the earl’s son continued to drawl. “One of the help said that a suspicious looking man was slinking around the gardens but I never thought it would be you, Mr. Thief.”

Ludwig bristled slightly at the name and struggled to keep his temper in check. The half eaten apple rolled out from underneath the bushes and came to rest next to the marble statue. Without giving it much thought Ludwig bent down to pick it up when a swift kick from the young lord’s booted foot made Ludwig hiss with surprise and mild pain and quickly pull away. He stood up straight, fixing the boy with a glare. The earl’s son looked amused more than anything and he leaned forward to shake his finger in Ludwig’s face.

“I do not recall giving that to you,” he said sweetly. “It was a present for the bushes and simply because it was rejected does not mean it is yours. And considering your record, Mr. Thief, it would be best if you monitored your own actions a bit more carefully.” The boy’s grin widened when Ludwig met his gaze for a moment and then looked away.

The young lord burst into delighted laughter.

“And there it is! The sole intriguing aspect of a day laborer. That arrogant, misplaced glare,” he drawled, circling Ludwig and raking his eyes up and down his form. He clicked his tongue and reached out with slender fingers to pick at Ludwig’s suit. Ludwig tensed, but somehow remained still through the inspection.

“This is what you thought fit to wear to this happy occasion? The same rags you wore to church? Donning such a monstrosity in front of God is one thing but to wear it in front of me – and my father,” the boy added as an afterthought, “What an affront to all man’s sensibilities.”

The young lord finally took a step away, sighing and crossing his arms over his thin chest.

“Still, even tawdry wrappings can disguise a curiosity,” he murmured as though to himself, still looking Ludwig up and down, and finally the farmhand had had enough.

“I do not find your games amusing,” Ludwig snapped, only thinking to add after a moment, “my lord. The invitation here was injurious enough to what small amount of pride you have left me with but there is no law that requires I stay here and listen to this—”

He fell silent again as the young lord began to laugh once more, and an irritated look crossed Ludwig’s face.

“And still you laugh,” he muttered, tugging his cap back on. “To think that I would put up with your abuse is beyond the pale. Good day, my lo –”

“Oh stop your affected manners they don’t do your personality any favors,” the boy suddenly said, striding forward and tilting his head back to catch Ludwig’s eyes. Ludwig steadily held his gaze, feeling nothing but contempt for the little weasel in human skin.

“I was going to emasculate you in front of the entire party and my father and grandparents…” the earl’s son said thoughtfully, tapping a finger against his chin. “But in hindsight it’s obvious that is a pathetically stereotypical plot and not worthy of any further consideration.” He made a face, scrunching up his pointed weasel nose and wrinkling his weasely eyes. “In retrospect I am ashamed I even entertained the idea. What a pathetic use of my talents.” His lips curled into a little smirk and he took another step forward, and to his shame, Ludwig found himself taking a step back, the ruby eyes fixed on his unnerving him more than he’d care to admit.

“My mother insists I’ve outgrown all my toys,” the young lord murmured, and Ludwig could swear the boy’s smile was made of pointed fangs. “But I doubt even she would object to my adopting a little play project like this…”

He held Ludwig’s gaze for a long moment, and Ludwig could feel the flames of the Icarus’ burning broken wings searing his skin. The young lord’s eyes were dark and his poison tongue was peeking out between his lips like a serpent’s and the smell of blossoms and fruit was cloying in the air around them. Ludwig could hear his heart beating furiously in his chest, drowning out the noise of the workers toiling just on the other side of the grounds.

With a bright laugh the young lord suddenly turned away, and Ludwig blinked as the spell was broken. The earl’s son stopped underneath the topiary arch again, a slightly annoyed look on his face.

“Well hurry up, Ludwig. Your wandering has cost me precious time and has endangered my chances of procuring the best selection of foods before my cousins get to them,” he said crossly. “And pick up that apple. Just because you are used to living in a sty does not mean we all aspire to emulate your lifestyle.”

The boy turned and walked through the arch, calling every so often for Ludwig to hurry.

Ludwig’s hands shook with anger as he found himself moving against his will to bend down and retrieve the half-eaten fruit. The bruised skin looked sickly and pale compared to the red gleam of the young lord’s eyes, the pulpy flesh already starting to brown.

The young lord’s voice rang out again, and with a quiet, snarled curse Ludwig hurled the apple into the meticulously sculpted topiary to let it rot.

He stormed after the earl’s son, regretting for the thousandth time that day the quiet voice that dictated he obey even a churlish devil’s whims.


	4. Pr(a)nks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter 3.2! the picnic type thing drags on against its will because i apparently have a longer attention span than i give myself credit for, although i am just now realizing that at the current pace i have set this has the potential to be stupidly long.
> 
> oh great.
> 
> also you might notice a very abrupt style shift and differential between this chapter and the others. this was not intentional but as my motto in life is ‘good enough’ i saw no reason to go back and fix it… and i’m curious as to whether my lovely readers (HELLO YOU TWO or seven or whatever i love you) prefer this sort of thing to the rest.
> 
> we just don’t know.

The young lord had disappeared by the time Ludwig made his way back to the party. Ludwig was not pleased by this (sadly predictable) development. The boy was like a spider in a room. You took your eyes off of it for just a moment to go fetch a newspaper and when you looked back again it would be gone, only to reappear at the most inconvenient of moments when one was at their most vulnerable. In the shower or getting changed for the day or heaven forbid in one’s bed.

Ludwig quickly abandoned the metaphor. The thought of that weasel in his home was too annoying and off-putting to bear.  
The house staff was out and about in the gardens by the time Ludwig situated himself off to the side, and while several of them (particularly the butler whose name escaped him) cast occasional glances his way, no doubt the earl had informed them of his presence. There was no awkward confrontation like Ludwig expected, and he was free to take a glass of some odd, fruity drink (he’d been informed that it was ‘lemonade,’ whatever that was) and sit by himself underneath one of the large leafy plants next to the canal. The workers were still setting up the food in the white tents, and the staff and gardeners were milling about and gathering in small groups as humans were wont to do. Ludwig sipped at his drink and watched the circle closest to him out of the corner of his eye. He recognized the slightly elderly lady as the head housekeeper and the young man next to her as one of the footmen. The rest he didn’t know, but the rapidity at which they gossiped made him picture the kitchen staff. Huddled around the stoves and talking in hushed voices about the ones upstairs.

The head housekeeper glanced at him and offered him a courteous smile and a small wave of her hand, an invitation to join them. Ludwig shook his head as politely as he could and gestured to his drink as an excuse. He had no desire to mingle with the residence of the downstairs. Not when he had no desire to mingle with those on the same level as him. The cellar, he supposed it would be called. Dirt on the cellar floor.

Ludwig fished an ice cube out of his drink and rested it in his palm, watching it slowly melt. It was strange to come into contact with ice in the heart of summer. His only other experience with ice was breaking it off of his clothes during snap frosts or waking up to find that his eyelashes were crusted with a thin layer of frost. He had never considered it to be anything pleasurable, but now when he was wishing his church clothes were made of something other than wool the ice in his hand was making him reconsider his relationship with winter.

Ludwig quickly glanced around and then reached over his shoulder to let the ice cube slip underneath his collar. He let out a quiet sigh at the relief the ice cube brought. Why the nobility had yet to invent a neater, more posh way of exploiting ice he had no idea. Portable ice baths, perhaps. Ice hats. Ice—

Ludwig shuddered slightly as the ice cube shifted. Possibly a poor decision on his part. Fishing it out would draw too much attention to himself, and so he resigned himself to squirming very slightly until the temperature evened out somewhat.

Feeling pleasantly cooled (and wishing he could dip his feet in the canal), Ludwig pushed himself up and decided to try and be pleasant. He could hear the earl’s booming voice from across the lawn and decided that the sooner he said his hellos the sooner he could slip out after taking full advantage of the hospitality being offered.

He took a moment to make sure his suit had not gathered any earth or leaves before running a hand over his hair. Looking presentable was a habit drilled into him from his days in Her Majesty’s armed forces, and it was one he had the hardest time abandoning for its reasons of practicality. A clean-shaven and properly dressed man could get away with a good deal more than someone who let their appearance fall by the wayside.

The earl seemed to spot him, for a moment later he and his entourage migrated towards Ludwig, the lower class men hovering about the lord like anxious mother birds.

“Ah, Ludwig! I am glad you could make it,” the man said, his face wreathed in smiles. Ludwig politely inclined his head, shivering as the remnants of the ice cube slid lower down his back.

“It is my pleasure, Lord Horschhorn,” he said quietly, and the earl chuckled.

“See, Langley? A taciturn man of good stock. Just as I said.”

The reedy looking man to the earl’s left nodded and spared Ludwig a passing glance before visibly dismissing him. “Quite so, my lord.”

The earl chuckled, and the men turned slightly en masse with the lord, their shoulders effectively boxing Ludwig out of the conversation. He stood still, unsure if that was a signal for him to leave or to stay in place.

“Do you have the faintest idea why the boy is so fixated on him?”

“Not the slightest. Lisa speculates it’s another one of his horrible ploys. The house staff already knows his tricks. Most likely he’s simply gotten bored with his usual victims and their inevitable predictability.”

The men chuckled appropriately, and Ludwig struggled to look like he was not eavesdropping, which was quite an achievement when five brazenly loud men and one chatty earl were standing not three feet from you.

“And it was he who pushed for his invitation?”

“I wouldn’t say pushed, Wiltshire. Simply made a valid point.”

The earl suddenly paused and glanced at Ludwig before shifting slightly, laughing once more.

“My good man you must forgive us. These five are as talkative as the staff without the benefit of manners training. Please, join us for the moment, at least until lunch is served.” The earl’s eyes sparkled a bit as he lowered his voice slightly, “The canals can only keep one’s interest for so long, I wouldn’t wager. And my son will most likely leave you alone if you are in my company. I do apologize for him pestering you so. He has difficulty acting his age when his surroundings fail to occupy him.”

Ludwig inclined his head slightly, and politely lied, “He is no bother at all, my lord,” unsure where the sudden familiarity was coming from. Its quick onset made him slightly wary, and the five pairs of upper crusted eyes did little to assuage the feeling. But once again he found himself in a position where refusal would be far beyond bad form, and so he merely inclined his head in thanks once more and took a small step forward.

Instantly an uncomfortable silence settled over the group that Ludwig made no effort to break. He took note of the five men’s attire – much more casual than those he’d glimpsed in carriages on the way to formal nightly celebrations at the manor – and subtly brushed a few wrinkles out of his suit coat.

“Have you been… er… working… long?” one of the men finally ventured, his raspy voice catching uncomfortably over every other word.

Ludwig shook his head and then realized he was required to provide a verbal answer. “No, my lord. I have served Earl Horschhorn for only ten years.”

“Ten years toiling in the fields is not /long/?” one of the other men exclaimed, his thin moustache twitching frantically like a snared rabbit. “My word if it were I out there in that dust and sun even for one day I’d wager it would feel more like an eon!”

The other five men chuckled slightly but the earl merely gave them a polite smile before saying, “The good book speaks of the rewards of labor. I can only imagine it is those rewards of honest work that cause time to pass in a more regimented fashion.”

Instantly the other five closed their mouths before one to the left of Moustache cleared his throat.

“Spoken with the dignity of one who knows such exertion,” he said loftily, and Ludwig fought not to roll his eyes. Snakes in the grass, all of them. What a pathetic display. And it was with a small start that he wondered if the earl considered these men friends at all. They had certainly seemed so walking shoulder to shoulder but making friends or even trusted acquaintances out of sycophants seemed an impossible endeavor.

The earl in response merely laughed again when something over Moustache’s shoulder caught his attention. With a quiet sigh the man excused himself and hurried towards the manor house. The other five men gave Ludwig anxious glances and then scattered with polite little nods and curtseys and affected niceties until Ludwig was left wonderfully alone.

He took another sip of his drink and was about to head back down to the canal to search for fish when he felt something ice cold on the back of his neck. With a small gasp of surprise he grabbed for it, his fingers closing around an ice cube. He stared at it for a moment and then turned around, not surprised at all to find no one there. He remained still, blue eyes fixed on the most likely point of retreat: the hedges a few feet away. His fist closed so tightly around the ice cube that it was reduced to uninteresting water in moments, and he shook out his numbed fingers, but otherwise did not move.

Ludwig remained still for nearly a full minute, ignoring the questioning (and slightly alarmed) glances of the house staff when finally a small patch of the hedges rustled ever so slightly.

With a few quick steps Ludwig rounded the hedges on the other side and planted himself behind the little rustling spot. The bushes fell mysteriously still for a long moment before there came a sudden flurry of movement. Ludwig watched with an unimpressed look on his face as the earl’s son struggled out of the bushes, cursing a blue streak of words that would have made the head of housekeeping tut disapprovingly but would not so much as turn a sailor’s head.

In a few moments the boy stood before him, twigs and leaves stuck in his wild pale hair and a slightly annoyed look on his face.

“That was incredibly disappointing!” the young lord said dramatically, scrubbing at his hair to rid it of the debris. “You reacted more when you played that little trick on yourself! Clever idea though,” he said, his tone suddenly changing dramatically to one of grudging approval. “I nearly kicked myself for not having thought of it before.”

Ludwig could feel his lower eyelid twitching but he did his best to keep his temper in check – a running theme whenever he encountered the little louse (which was becoming far too frequent an event).

“With all due respect, my lord, were you not under your father’s protection right now I would have not simply stood there,” he said as evenly as he could.

The earl’s son rolled his eyes, a flash of something hard to place – disappointment, perhaps – crossing his features. It was not a look the boy wore well, his thin features more suited to snide twists of the mouth.

“Papa was distracted by the little fireworks show in the maid’s bathroom. You had all the time in the world to react accordingly,” the boy complained, letting out a heavy sigh. “A horrible waste of a diversion. I suspect Eliza won’t let me hear the end of this one…”

Eliza. The girl cousin, probably.

Ludwig filed that information away for later (in case the topic was somehow breached, no matter how unlikely that may be).

“I apologize for not being a more willing participant in amateur torture hour,” Ludwig said as diplomatically as he could, finding it hard to resist baiting the boy slightly. The young lord was a theatrical thing, and Ludwig hadn’t been able to afford tickets to London to attend any plays lately. This would do, provided he could walk the delicate tightrope of goading and outright insubordination.

For whatever reason, though, the boy looked pleased and rocked back and forth on his heels.

“Amateur torture hour. You have a rather mordant wit about your words, don’t you,” he said thoughtfully, eyeing Ludwig once more. “For a farmhand, at any rate…”

“Gilbert!”

Lady Horschhorn’s voice rang out over the grounds, and Gilbert’s already-pale face turned somehow paler still. He turned and pressed himself against the hedges until the upper half of his body was practically swallowed up by branches. Ludwig could see him pushing aside the leaves to peer into the manor grounds.

“It wasn’t me.”

Ludwig could hear the boy whining to himself.

“It was Eliza’s idea to begin with. Sullen wench that she is, pretending to help me when really I am quite sure she just wanted to explode something and pin the blame on me…”

“Gilbert!”

The lady’s voice was farther away this time, and Gilbert sighed with relief, pushing himself slightly out of the hedges again until he apparently got stuck. He flailed weakly and then fell still for a moment, his long fingers struggling to free a clump of frost white hair.

Ludwig took a sip of his drink, unconcerned with the little drama playing out before him, until he took absent note of the slight gapping of Gilbert’s collar. He resisted temptation for as long as he could, but some churlish, self-indulgent impulse suddenly seized him.

He was only human, after all.

For once he did not let himself dwell too long on the consequences. Ludwig quickly fished an ice cube out of his drink and carefully placed it on the young lord’s neck and then stepped back to watch the performance unfold.

The boy gave a startled yelp and attempted to right himself, which only ended with his head stuck further in the hedge and the ice cube plummeting down his shirt. He scrambled wildly about in a game effort to retrieve the thing, and Ludwig suddenly found himself in the very uncomfortable position of having to stifle laughter. It should not have been as funny as it was, but seeing the pompous young lord flail about in a hedge with his head stuck and his skinny chicken legs scrambling for purchase on the soft, rain-soaked earth was too much for someone who had suffered at his spindly hands.

The earl’s son did finally manage to extract himself, and Ludwig quickly schooled his face into its normal neutral expression, although he could not help the twitching of his lips. The boy fished out the ice cube with an indignant noise of triumph and then glared up at Ludwig out of the corner of his eye.

“Gilbert! Your father would like a word with you!”

Lady Horschhorn’s voice carried more than a hint of warning to it.

The boy’s expression did not change, and Ludwig found his amusement slowly fading away as he realized the gravity of what he’d done. It was just a simple child’s trick, but he was not even a member of the house staff, and he was on thin ice (he mentally eviscerated himself for the idiom) as it was.

The earl’s son straightened and pinched the ice cube between his fingers, still keeping a rather furious glare fixed on Ludwig’s face before quite suddenly, a little grin broke out across his features.

“You are a complete idiot, farmhand. I hope you’re aware of that,” he said mildly, tossing the ice cube at Ludwig in a gentle arc. Ludwig caught it, his neutral expression unwavering. The boy continued, “Even Nancy – oh, that’s the head housekeeper, why on Earth you would know her name – has yet to find the stones to turn around and best me, although I have given her ample opportunity, God knows, and she is the only one in that wretched house who even has a glimmer of a chance.”

He took a little step forward, and somehow Ludwig found himself holding his ground and meeting the boy’s gaze with an even one of his own, the calculating ruby eyes no longer holding quite the weight they had before. Perhaps because Ludwig had just seen him try and wrestle a hedge and lose spectacularly.

The young lord smiled and out of the blue stood on tip-toe and reached up to snag Ludwig’s cap off his head. With a little laugh he danced away, tugging it on as he called out cheerfully, “Coming, Mother!” He waved his fingers at Ludwig and said in a more normal voice, “I fully expect to ransom this off to the next taker – I believe the homeless man who lives next to the Church will find it a slight step above his usual attire of discarded newspapers. Or who knows? I may be more benevolent than I give myself credit for.”

The boy paused at the edge of the bushes and gave Ludwig an exasperated look.

“Well, come on then, farmhand. I need some sort of alibi and you will have to do. Look lively.”

The young lord plucked the hat off of his head and twirled it on his finger, the devilish grin back on his face. Ludwig stared at his hat for a moment, wiling it to magic itself back onto his head. When that ultimately failed, he drained the last of his drink and dumped the rest of the ice out on the ground before reluctantly following the boy, his shoulders hunched and his stomach churning.

Somehow the ice had lost its novelty.


	5. B(a)rgaining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter 3.3! and the last of these sort of transitional chapters hopefully. things will change a bit after this one… maybe? if things go as planned i guess. but when have they ever, amiright.
> 
> again this is just a speed writing exercise of sorts. comments and criticism are still encouraged but i’m not looking to write the next “mrs. dalloway” here. as if i ever could.

On the other side of the hedge, Lady Horschhorn had caught up with her son and was in the process of lecturing him. Ludwig stood off to the side, silently enjoying watching the young lord squirm. For such a conceited young man he still cowered in front of his mother. It was satisfying in a malicious sort of way to watch him cringe.  
The lady seemed to notice Ludwig after a moment and she stopped mid finger-wag to smile at him, a slight flush to her cheeks.

“Ah… Ludwig. I am sorry, I did not see you there,” she said quickly, shooing her son off to the side and ignoring his whine of, “But Mother!”

Lady Horschhorn gave Ludwig another strained smile. “Gilbert has to go quickly see his father but when he returns I believe he owes you an apology. One of the staff told me about the little trick he played on you. I fully expect him to be nothing short of a consummate gentleman for the rest of the evening.”

Ludwig had to bite back a vindictive laugh at the horrified look on the young lord’s face. The earl’s son caught him staring and his expression morphed immediately into a scowl. Ludwig smirked at him and then said politely, “If I may, my Lady…”

He reached out and carefully took his hat off of the young lord’s head, giving Lady Horschhorn an apologetic look. “I do not blame him for his exuberance.”

“Oh – thank you,” she said, shooting her son another glare. The young lord had the decency to look embarrassed, and let out an undignified squawk when his mother pushed him towards the manor.

“Stealing as well, Gilbert? You descend more and more to the level of a common ruffian with every passing day! What am I to do with you?!”

Ludwig adjusted his cap, and could not resist giving the pompous little lord a quick salute before making his way to the drink tent once more. He finally felt calm enough to indulge in another lemon… whatever. Immediately after, however, he was accosted by the house staff, and he was forced to wear a polite smile for the next half an hour and listen to their unmitigated gossip. It was exceedingly boring, but Ludwig found some relief when he spotted the earl’s son lurking off to the side, an ill-tempered look on his face. It did not take an active imagination to speculate as to the reason behind the young lord’s change in temperament (which was fortunate as Ludwig’s imagination was nearly sedentary).

Ludwig ignored the rest of the staff’s blathering as the young lord slunk over to the crowd. The kitchen maids stopped talking at once, slightly nervous looks on their faces.

“Is there something you needed, my lord?” the head housekeeper asked politely, staring at the earl’s son over the tops of her spectacles. She seemed to be the only one of the bunch who was not intimidated, which Ludwig found rather amusing and a bit pathetic. The earl’s son was a child in his mid to possibly late teens. It was difficult to tell with his small stature and childish nature, but he could not have been older than sixteen. Seventeen at most. And yet here they were, cowering. He must truly be a terror in the house.

The young lord shifted from foot to foot, his pale eyebrows knit into an expression of pure annoyance. He mumbled something and the head housekeeper’s tone became ever so slightly exasperated.

“Annunciate, my lord. If you please.”

The earl’s son shot the elderly woman a vicious glare and then stood up straighter.

“I need to talk with that one. The farmhand,” he said, gesturing vaguely.

“I believe ‘that one’ has a name, my lord,” the housekeeper said, obviously enjoying herself if the small smile were anything to go by.

The young lord’s eye twitched.

“I need to talk with Ludwig,” he said curtly, “And that is quite enough attitude from you, Mrs. Hauser.”

The head housekeeper raised an eyebrow and then said evenly, “Charming as always, my lord.” She glanced up at Ludwig, shaking her head. “You are not a servant of this house and thus you are not obliged to listen to him. He is not an earl yet.”

“I don’t mind, ma’am,” Ludwig said, nodding politely towards the rest of the group before stepping forward slightly. The young lord shot the group of servants one last glare and then turned to storm away, snapping, “Follow me.”

Ludwig rolled his eyes very slightly and followed the earl’s son away from the tents and towards the side of the manor house. There were several swans resting along a branch of the canal, and the young lord kicked a pebble towards them, but all they did was hiss and shake their tail feathers at him. The boy’s shoulders slumped and he sat down on a marble bench, a dejected look on his face.

“Can’t even scare a swan,” he mumbled, propping his elbows on his knees.

“It is rather pathetic, my lord,” Ludwig said mildly, taking advantage of the young lord’s despondent carriage for the moment. “May I ask what it is you wanted to discuss with me?”

“You watch your tone, farmhand,” the boy suddenly snapped, pushing himself to his feet. “I am in no mood to pander to your insurrections any longer.”

Ludwig evenly met the young lord’s furious gaze. “…Is that all, my lord?”

The earl’s son remained poised to swipe like a vicious housecat that had been unfortunately trod upon, until he suddenly deflated, shoulders slumping once again.

“…No,” he muttered, his polished boot scuffing against the pebble covered road. “Papa—my father insisted I apologize and… make amends for my childish behavior by ensuring you enjoy the rest of your time at this pathetic little party.”

“I see,” Ludwig said, unable to keep from smirking. “Am I to understand that you would be required to wait upon me, my lord?”

“No,” the boy snapped, lightly kicking a few pebbles Ludwig’s way. “Not servitude, my father knows better than to force me to deign myself to a farmhand. But – I am to. Make. Nice.” He spat out the last two words, and that did Ludwig in.

He quickly coughed to hide his laughter, and managed somehow to say in an even voice, “Very good, my lord.”

The earl’s son clicked his tongue in obvious irritation. “And when I do a remarkable job – as I am sure I will – you will report to my father that I have done so and be sure to emphasize my good nature to make him feel as low as possible for punishing me in such a crude and demeaning way. Do I make myself understood.”

“Verily, my lord.”

The boy’s eyes narrowed and he took a little step forward before saying incredulously, “You’re mocking me, aren’t you.”

Ludwig cleared his throat and glanced off to the side.

“There is a high chance of that, my lord.”

Ludwig could hear the young man grinding his teeth, but a moment later came another resigned sigh (one of many to come, he was sure) and at last a grudging chuckle.

“It is rather funny in a wretched way,” the earl’s son muttered, “But enough. Papa seems to think I am incapable of pleasantries and I am honor bound to prove him wrong.”

He reached out suddenly to grab Ludwig’s sleeve, dragging him back towards the party with a determined look on his face. Ludwig purposefully dragged his feet just to hear the young lord curse and struggle for purchase as he moved.

The other party-goers did not seem the least bit phased when the young lord arrived dragging the farmhand behind him. He made a beeline for the tent and grabbed two cups of something, forcing one into Ludwig’s hand.

“Drink this,” he ordered, and then obviously caught sight of one of his parents for he quickly added a grudging, “If you would like.”

Ludwig studied the drink for an inordinate amount of time and then politely set it down.

“I’m sorry, my lord, but I am not thirsty.”

The look of offended disbelief on the boy’s face was enough to make Ludwig have to cough again to hide another burst of laughter. The young lord finally gave a tired sigh and steered Ludwig towards the food tents. Most of the other guests already had plates in hand and were settling down. The young lord cut in front of the rest in line and shoved a plate at Ludwig.

“Then perhaps some food,” he said through gritted teeth, obviously struggling to smile. Ludwig accepted the plate and said “Thank you, my lord,” in as gracious a voice as he could muster. They went down the line, the earl’s son forcing various foods onto Ludwig’s plate and demanding in a strained and affected polite tone that he try them. Ludwig, of course, found everything to be slightly disagreeable, and when it seemed the earl’s son was about to give up and simply empty the plate over Ludwig’s head, his father appeared as though by magic on the other side of the table and Gilbert quickly changed tactics, offering Ludwig his own plate instead which Ludwig immediately accepted.

The night continued in a similar vein with Ludwig politely refusing every offer or courtesy so that by the end of the party the young lord was nearly in frustrated tears. But it wasn’t until Ludwig actually saw the boy have to scrub at his eyes that he began to take pity on him. Strong-armed or not, the young lord was at least attempting to be gracious, and half the time it nearly felt sincere. So when the earl’s son wearily offered him yet another type of dessert in an attempt to appease him, Ludwig took the sweet (some sort of puffed pastry with cream) and said softly, “Thank you, my lord.”

The look of shock and relief that crossed the young man’s face was almost enough to make up for the earlier hat theft and other idiotic trickery, but the moment was soon spoiled when the young lord muttered, “You are an absolute jerk, did you know that.”

Ludwig merely shrugged and finished off the pastry. He quickly wiped his hands clean on a napkin when he saw the earl approaching. The lord had a rather amused look on his face, and when he stopped in front of them his son seemed to have picked up on it as well, for he balked and ever so slightly shifted to hide behind Ludwig.

“Papa… good evening,” the boy mumbled as the earl sat down.

“Yes, Gilbert, hello for the thousandth time today,” Lord Horschhorn said in mild exasperation, immediately turning his attention to Ludwig, who straightened up and gave the man a polite nod and a quiet, “My lord.”

“I hope my son has been true to his word this evening,” the earl said, folding his hands on the table. “We have done our best to raise him properly, but it seems the devil has a plan for him that is beyond our ken. He means no real harm – I hope, at least – and his reputation among the house staff is akin to that of a mosquito or other loathsome but ultimately harmless insect.” Ludwig longed to question the validly of that statement (thanks to the good Sir Ronald Ross and his stint in the tropics) but bit his tongue. The earl continued, “And I hope that our saddling you with him this evening has not been too trying.” He leaned forward slightly, his dark blue eyes fixing on Ludwig with an almost unsettling intensity.

“Lisa – Lady Horschhorn – and I have been quite impressed with your resilience. Most would have attempted to dislodge Gilbert from their presence immediately. You have a rare gift of patience and we find ourselves wanting to take full advantage of that.”

Ludwig blinked slowly, not understanding. “…I am afraid I do not follow, my lord.”

The earl chuckled and sat back in his seat, catching his son’s eye.

“You have been without a valet for quite some time now, Gilbert.” Lord Horschhorn turned slightly to say off-handedly to Ludwig, “He burned the last one’s foot in a misguided effort to receive more attention. Sharing a valet with his cousin was apparently too much to bear.”

“The man obviously preferred waiting on Roderich to me,” the boy said in an affronted voice. “And that was two years ago! And it was an accident! How was I to know the poker was that hot when I could grab its handle just fine?”

“And the good man still bears those scars, physical and psychological,” the earl said, raising an eyebrow. “My point being that few have the patience and unfortunately the reflexes necessary to serve in your attendance, Gilbert, and it has been no easy task for your mother and me caring for you when we would much rather delegate certain tasks to a professional.”

The young lord fell sullenly quiet at that, but Ludwig was beginning to feel unsettled. It did not take a genius to follow the logical threads Lord Horschhorn was weaving, but Ludwig remained silent, his mind scrambling to invent some excuse for the statement he knew was soon to follow.

“Seeing as how you have tolerated my son’s presence for the day with great aplomb, Lady Horschhorn and I were wondering if you would be at all interested in serving as a valet for our son.”

“What?!”

The boy’s outburst was loud enough to silence the entire garden for a few painful moments before conversation resumed, albeit with a few nervous glances in their direction.

The earl gave a little sigh and said not unkindly, “Close your mouth, Gilbert, you look like a trout.”

The young man shut his mouth so quickly Ludwig heard his teeth click together, but it wasn’t long before the boy was speaking again, his voice quiet and strained.

“Papa – Father he is a farmhand! I doubt he knows a waistcoat from a pair of… of dungarees if how he has dressed himself today is any indication! He has no experience serving and who do you expect to train him? Mister Kirkland? He would suffer a heart attack on the spot and you know as well as I do that he is stretched far too thin as it is – ”

“Please spare me your affected concern for the staff, Gilbert. It’s unbecoming,” the earl said, a slightly weary cadence to his voice

Ludwig, who had remained silent during the familial back and forth, finally spoke up.

“With all due respect, my lord, I am inclined to agree with your son,” he said quietly. “I have no experience being a valet… or even a footman. A motor carriage chauffer. A housemaid, even. I would be woefully out of place and I cannot imagine the staff would be too keen having an uneducated man shackled to them.”

“We both know that you are far more educated than you let on, my good man,” the earl said, his lips twitching in amusement. “You play your role well but no man without some semblance of an education can speak the Queen’s English as you do. The decision is yours, of course, but –”

“And do I get a say in this?” the earl’s son spoke up again, moving from behind Ludwig to stare piteously at his father. “He’s… Papa he’s still a mere farmhand regardless of what pittance of education has been afforded him. I respect his work for the back breaking labor that it is –” Ludwig struggled not to roll his eyes “—but he belongs in the fields. Not in the manor. He should know his pla—”

“Enough, Gilbert,” the earl said sharply, and to Ludwig’s surprise the young man backed off, although the surly and betrayed look on his face remained. The earl turned once more to Ludwig, offering him a small smile as he stood.

“As I said, the decision is yours. If you accept I expect a letter stating as such and for you to arrive at the manor no later than this coming Wednesday. One of our current valets will train you for a few days, but then you will be on your own. I will hold you to the same standard I do my other servants. If you do not believe you can rise to the occasion, then I trust you will factor that into your decision.”

“I understand, my lord,” Ludwig said quietly, feeling lightheaded and slightly nauseated as he struggled to come to grips with the lord’s speech.

With a small smile the earl turned and left, leaving the two men in equal states of mild shock.

The young lord was the first to break the silence.

“…I believe my father has gone mad,” he said calmly, sitting back down and picking up his glass of lemonade. “I suppose I should prepare myself to inherit his estate. It is a good deal sooner than I had anticipated but the Lord works in mysterious ways. In this case those ways appear to be manifesting in the form of early-onset dementia but as I said. Mysterious.”

“I do not believe your father to be mad, my lord. Merely a good deal more charitable than you are,” Ludwig muttered, sitting down as well and feeling not at all pleased with this current development. He did not like charity. He had worked hard to secure a comparatively lucrative job in the fields. It was simple work but it gave him something to do and was backbreaking enough that his mind did not wander as it was wont to when he was unable to simply pass out at night from sheer exhaustion.

But thoughts of better shelter and food were hard incentives to decline for the sake of pride and potential mental stability. Even if they did mean he would be saddled with the devil of a boy sitting next to him. And the satisfaction of going against the young lord’s wishes was an enticing thing as well, although it would be short lived.

The two sat in silence for some time, each preoccupied with their own fears, the strains of orchestral music helping mask the surrounding conversation.

“Well if you do accept,” the young lord said suddenly, turning to Ludwig, “then you can rest assured your appointment would not be a lengthy one. The butler and head of housekeeping are terribly strict, as are my cousins. And myself of course. I imagine I would be an absolute terror playing constant tricks on you, and with how gullible you’ve proven yourself to be today I would be greatly surprised if you lasted even a week, regardless of how quick on the uptake you may be or your alarming adaptability and apparent brazen fearlessness even in the face of your betters.” He tapped his fingers against the table, his red eyes growing cloudy and lost in thought.

“No…” he said absently. “No I don’t suppose you would last long at all… and it would be a shame to lose a worthy adversary so quickly. Far better to stay in a stable position in the fields…” He remained silent for several moments longer, and Ludwig had half a mind to push the young man’s shoulder to see if he could upset him from his seat when suddenly the boy shook his head and said loftily, “If I were you I would stick to the security of my current life. The coward’s choice is not always the most foolish.”

He gave Ludwig a rakish smile and stood, stretching slightly.

“Reluctantly I must leave the decision in your hands. I await your response on pins and needles,” he said, reaching out to tap the tip of his finger against the brim of Ludwig’s cap. Ludwig scowled slightly and stood, not afraid to use his extra height to invite a small amount of trepidation in the young man.

“I doubt you will need to wait long, my lord,” Ludwig muttered, pushing his cap up to readjust it. “It would take a person of saintly disposition to accept a post like that with no prior experience in animal wrangling. Or in valet work.”

The earl’s son let out a bark of surprised laughter and gave Ludwig a puzzled look before moving slightly closer, his lips pulled into a grin once more.

“…You forgot to pretend to apologize and add ‘my lord,’” he said sweetly, tapping Ludwig’s chest.

“…What if I simply added the title. Would that do?” Ludwig asked, taking a step back out of the earl’s son’s range, not appreciating the uninvited contact.

The boy merely laughed and hopped away, waving at Ludwig.

“Ah, now you’ve made me a conflicted man when I was resolute in my wishes only a moment ago! How irksome,” he complained, his voice not matching the smile still on his face. “As I said, I await your response, farmhand. Whether you accept or decline I trust you will not disappoint.”

Ludwig watched the boy hurry back to his father’s side, an excited look on his face as he tugged on the earl’s arm and began speaking at a rapid pace, his voice for once too soft for Ludwig to pick out.

Ludwig sat back down at the table, pushing aside the half-drunk lemonade, his stomach in knots.

Only once before in his life had he been both privileged and cursed to hold such a decision in his hands. To accept would be to cast aside the life he’d pieced together and the work that kept his mind at ease. To decline would be impractical, rude, and cowardly. The boy’s teasing still rang in his ears, and childish though it was to indulge it, indulge it he did.

With a quiet sigh Ludwig rested his head in his hands, watching the orchestra play and the house staff talk amongst themselves, unknowing that they might soon be welcoming another to their ranks. Ludwig could not see himself among their company, nor could he picture himself eternally subservient to the earl’s son. The boy was a prankster and superficially acted out of a sole desire to be as annoying as possible. He was a brat and a scoundrel and abused his position horribly, and yet from the two instances of pure honesty Ludwig had glimpsed from the boy that day, he could not help but feel slightly sorry for him.

The boy asked for the undivided attention of all he came across, and yet seemed utterly dissatisfied when he was lavished with it. He did not want simple praise or punishment or to be looked upon with admiration or derision.

Ludwig could wager a guess as to what the young lord saw in him that caused him to laugh and smile and bound away to cling happily to his father’s arm. Ludwig was not a simple target but one who would retaliate in turn and to share knowledge of both their guilt and victories. He saw in Ludwig what he continuously sought, and what the upstanding others in the household lacked.

He wanted another sinner to fall with him.


	6. W(a)iting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> admittedly i had fun writing this chapter and i don’t even know why. it’s not what i’d intended on writing – i’d wanted to forward the plot a bit more – but oh well. next time!
> 
> i’m trying to focus more on dialogue and individual character voices, which i struggle with. a lot. urhg. i’m going to go wallow now.

It hadn’t taken the other farmhands long to hear about the offer.

The atmosphere had been cold and unfriendly the first workday after the party, and Ludwig wasn’t fool enough to ascribe the glares and whispers to anything but the earl’s invitation. He of course remained silent and focused on his work during the day. Nights he tortured himself with indecision. He only had four days. Wednesday was looming and there was still a blank sheet of paper on his desk, awaiting his pen.  
It wasn’t until Tuesday night when Ludwig sat down in front of the paper again, dust falling from his hair and covering the sheet of paper. He was too exhausted to draw a bath to rid himself of the day’s labor.

He brushed the dust aside and picked up his pen, but still his hand refused to move. Regardless of what he wrote, he was signing away a future, and Ludwig had never been one who enjoyed playing God. It was a quality that had made him a compassionate, and therefore terrible, soldier. Utterly useless in front of injured men, be they on his side of the trenches or not.

He sat until the fireflies outside grew dim and the feral cats that lived next door began to yowl in earnest. The lamp was almost out of oil and he was stuck between two vastly different worlds, neither of which he exactly relished inhabiting.

He briefly thought about enlisting again. Just to take the decision out of his hands.

Coward.

Ludwig bit back a snarl at the memory, a word that had only grazed him days ago now left gaping wounds as it tore across his brain. Basing this decision on pride or humiliation would be the most pathetic thing he could do. It would be a disgrace and would only serve to emphasize the level of control the young lord already had over him.

Ludwig jotted down four words, leaving a blank space in the sentence. He stood up and surveyed his house – the single room had been stripped of what few possession he owned, and his trunk was waiting by the front door, stuffed with what he had been unable to part with. He liked being prepared, regardless of outcome.

The east was turning gray by the time Ludwig tugged on his cap and began the walk to the manor. He had to deliver his response regardless of haunting indecision in only a few hours. He would make up his mind on the walk there, surely.

In the houses lining the muddy street he could hear his fellow workers stirring, readying themselves for the day. Work would begin in only an hour or so, and Ludwig quickened his pace, moving as quietly as he could to avoid alerting others to his presence. Slipping out like the coward he was proving himself once more to be.

Ludwig filed that thought aside for future visitation and inevitable shame.

The morning air was cold and damp, and it was not until Ludwig was in the heart of the manor woods that he realized he had forgotten his jacket. With a quiet curse he tugged his shirt tighter around himself and began to jog, nearly tripping over fallen logs and trickster roots that grew by the side of the road. His eyes were stinging from lack of sleep and his mind was in a fog. All he could focus on was the single-minded task of reaching the manor. Everything would sort itself out by then, he was sure.

Somehow.

By the time he reached the second gate, Ludwig was flushed and sweaty and covered in mud from the knees down, and far, far too tired to realize how horrible he looked. It wasn’t until he caught a glimpse of himself in the canal that he stopped to take stock of his appearance.

Unfortunately, the brief pause also gave the manor guards a chance to detain him.

The two men were unnecessarily curt and rude, and in his drowsy state Ludwig was quick to become irritable. He did his best to keep a lid on his temper but to little avail, and in only a few moments the two guards were threatening to throw him out of the grounds and sort it out with the earl at a later time.

Ludwig was having none of that.

With a quick feint he dashed off to the side and began running towards the manor, absently wondering if this delightful experience would at all affect his decision.

The front door was perched atop an inordinately large flight of granite stairs, and Ludwig’s endurance was at its limits by the time he reached the top. He barely had time to grab the bell cord and pull when the first guard tackled him from behind. Ludwig went flying forward headlong into the solid oak door with a heavy ‘oof!’ of surprise. He remained stunned for several moments as the two men wrestled him back down the stairs, their faces red from the effort of carrying him.

An annoyingly posh clearing of the throat stopped them in their tracks, and the two guards turned to stare up at the open door. Ludwig slowly raised his head, blinking stars from his vision.

Standing in the doorway and looking annoyed beyond reason was a middle-aged man in a finely tailored suit. His bushy eyebrows were furrowed in obvious disproval, and the very slight lines around his mouth betrayed a half a lifetime of frowning and most likely finding things unamusing.

“Misters Harrison and O’Neil. Did you ring?” the man asked, his voice a light tenor that did not match his coarse facial features.

The man holding Ludwig’s left arm shook his head and said quickly, “Nosir, Mr. Kirkland, sir. It was this one. He said he had a letter for the earl and was babbling on about Lord knows what. We caught him, sir, and were going to alert the proper authorities.”

“You do not need to embellish your tone with quite that level of self-congratulation, Mr. Harrison,” the man said – Kirkland, Ludwig’s dazed brain miraculously surmised. “And we were expecting a visitor today, although slightly later and not nearly as… hermity.”

The two guards did not move for a long moment before the other cleared his throat and asked rather awkwardly, “Then… you want us to let him go, sir?”

Mr. Kirkland raised one abundant eyebrow and the two men immediately released Ludwig’s arms. Unfortunately Ludwig had not been expecting the sudden loss of support and fell heavily on the flagstone landing. Ludwig quickly picked himself up, doing his best to hide his embarrassment, but Mr. Kirkland did not seem to take any notice of him. His green eyes were still fixed on the guards until with quiet, mumbled apologies, the two men slunk away. It was only then that Kirkland turned his attention to Ludwig, and Ludwig felt like a piece of meat at a butchers being sized up and found to be less than adequate. Rotting, even, if the man’s dour expression was anything to go by.

“Are we to stand here in silence until we turn to stone, or would you do me the distinct honor of telling me who exactly you are?” Kirkland finally asked, his tone dry and clipped beyond good taste.

Ludwig blinked, his mind running in circles for a long moment as he struggled to formulate a coherent answer.

“I—I… letter,” he finally said quietly, and then shook his head to attempt to clear some of the fog from his mind. “I mean – sorry. My apologies. Sir. I have a letter. Earl Horschhorn is expecting my answer today and I… it seemed important that I deliver it now.”

He fished around in his pocket for the folded piece of paper and then held it out towards the man. Kirkland took it with the tips of his fingers as though it were a dead rodent and then delicately unfolded it. His green eyes skimmed the page and then he stared up at Ludwig, a deadpan expression on his face.

“It reads, ‘I politely your offer,’” he said, showing Ludwig the paper. “My good man, are you ill.”

“What?” Ludwig quickly grabbed the letter with a muttered, ‘My apologies,’ and then stared at it for a moment before pressing a hand against his face, a humiliated, exhausted laugh bubbling up from behind his lips.

“I—aha… I’m so sor—ahaha… I… I seem to have… forgotten the most crucial point, haven’t I.”

How utterly humiliating. Ludwig wanted very much to fall backwards down the stairs and hopefully crack open his skull and be hospitalized for the near future. He had never been so exhausted in his whole life and for some reason it was making it impossible to stop laughing like some idiot savant. He was amazed Kirkland hadn’t shoved him down the stairs himself or simply walked inside and called the police. Apparently the Horschhorn family only hired those who were extremely tolerant of the mentally infirm.

As it was, Kirkland merely pursed his lips and then said dryly, “It worries me you find your mental and literary incapacity so amusing. If you would not mind finishing your thought I would be most appreciative.”

“What? Oh – oh yes. Yes of course.”

Ludwig fumbled around in his pockets for a moment, his brain slowly coming to terms with the horrifying reality of the situation. He found his pen – the cartridge still had ink it in, thankfull – and pressed the nib to the paper.

He stood like that for several moments, his mind a complete blank. It wasn’t until Kirkland cleared his throat again and prompted him that he started out of his daze.

“As much as I enjoy standing outside and listening to you breathe disturbingly heavily, I do have other things to attend to.”

Ludwig nodded and let out a slow breath before writing in uneven and childish letters the simple word, ‘accept.’ He signed his name at the bottom and then handed the paper to Kirkland, feeling weary beyond the telling of it.

“I promise I do not usually laugh, sir,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment to attempt to alleviate their stinging. “Nor do I babble or talk incoherently. The decision has… taken its toll on me. So to speak.”

“I would recommend against you laughing in the future, yes. It is quite terrifying,” Kirkland said absently, studying the paper before folding it and placing it in the inner pocket of his suit. He cleared his throat once more and then held out his hand.

“Arthur Kirkland. Butler of the Horschhorn estate. We are well met, Mr. Schmidt.”

Ludwig shook the man’s hand, swaying slightly on his feet before steadying himself.

“Ludwig Schmidt. It is a pleasure, Mr. Kirkland.”

“Indeed.” Kirkland released his hand and then stood with his hands behind his back, surveying Ludwig. “My Lord Horschhorn had informed me of his offer, but I honestly did not think the mystery farmhand in question would have quite the stones to follow through with it. It is a perilous thing, venturing into the unknown. Even when it is merely a brisk walk from one’s previous work.”

“Yes, sir,” Ludwig said, struggling to keep the exhaustion out of his voice.

“I will arrange for your things as soon as we have the proper paperwork on file,” Kirkland continued, taking another step forward. “But for now I suggest we retire to the small hunting preparations room so that you can get changed. Mrs. Peeters would go into conniptions if she found I had let you inside as you are.”

Kirkland made little shooing motions with his hands and Ludwig obeyed the man with the quiet compliance of the utterly resigned. He was too exhausted to focus on any one thing. His vision came in snapshots. The hunting room, with chest of riding gear and spare clothes that Kirkland gingerly laid out for him. Changing into the unadorned gardener’s suit with its slightly too-short sleeves. Returning with Kirkland to the manor. Taking note of the rich wooden wainscoting and chair rails. The ornate molding around the doors. The decorated marble floor. The chandelier in the side room where Kirkland had situated him with a cup of plain tea and the polite yet ominous request to please not touch anything.

Ludwig stared down into his tea cup, the porcelain thing feeling too small in his large hands. A callous on his palm had cracked open two days ago, and the flesh inside was still pink and raw. The same color as the roses delicately painted onto the tea cup.

This had been a mistake.

As the oppressive silence and the porcelain roses weighed on him, a sudden bolt of panic seized him and Ludwig stood, trying to remember which of the three doors Kirkland had brought him through. He didn’t remember seeing a bookcase straight ahead on his way in, and so he tried the one to the right. Kirkland’s warning not to touch anything rang through his head, and he hopped about like a fool trying to avoid the seemingly infinite number of small side tables and ornate rugs and ridiculous precariously perched vases. He stumbled at the end but caught himself on the doorknob, his hand turning it when quite suddenly the door at the other end of the room opened and a pair of dark eyes peered inside. Ludwig froze, unable to see who it was in the shadow of the other room, and when the figure stepped forward into the light, the revelation did little to assuage his feelings of nervousness.

A young girl of about thirteen stood in the doorway, her hair somewhat neatly coifed and her dress slightly wrinkled. There was a small cobweb in her auburn ringlets, and peeking out just underneath the folds of her skirts one bloody knee could be seen. She didn’t seem to pay her injury or her unkempt state any mind, and after casting a unconcerned glance at Ludwig she quickly shut the door and hurried towards the windows. She pressed her face against the glass and peered outside before letting out an unladylike and alarming cackle.

“Idiot,” she muttered, and Ludwig briefly wondered if he ought to go. She had just stared at him and then dismissed him. Maybe that meant…

He slowly turned the doorknob and then froze when it made a loud squealing noise. The girl glanced over her shoulder, pushing a loose curl out of her eyes.

“…If you’re trying to steal from us I’d recommend another room,” she said idly, sitting down in the window seat and staring at Ludwig. “That’s just the closet where Uncle Wolfy keeps his maps. I’ve already asked, they aren’t worth anything. Not even the paper they’re scribbled on, probably.”

Ludwig let go of the handle and stood still, the young girl’s stare unnerving him more than he’d care to admit.

“I wasn’t trying to steal anything,” he felt the need to clarify, his cheeks slightly red. “I’m… lost.”

“Lost?”

The girl sounded intrigued and she hopped off the window seat to move closer to Ludwig. She peered up at him and then said, “Well I am trying to become lost right now. I’m playing hide and seek and Vash is awfully quick even though he has little potato legs. It really isn’t fair that centuries of inbreeding should bless him so. Would you help me hide? He’s scared of adults.”

Ludwig stared at the girl, uncomprehending for a moment before it finally clicked. The earl’s niece. Eliza. Of course.

He felt like an idiot (a rude idiot at that – she was young but still a member of the earl’s family) and he quickly nodded. “Of course, miss.”

The girl clapped her hands together, a delighted look on her face before she said firmly, “I’m going to hide behind that curtain and if Vash or any of the boys come looking for me you are to tell them I am not here, please.”

She quickly scrambled behind the curtain next to the window seat, and Ludwig sat down in his chair again, trapped by his sudden loyalty to the young hide and seeker. He sipped his tea for lack of anything better to do and scrubbed at his eyes.

It was strange. Kids in manors played the same games he had when he was younger. For some reason he thought they would be playing polo or squash or whatever else the posh and elite did to pass the time. Like miniature adults. But instead they had cobwebs in their hair and skinned knees and Ludwig found that extremely odd in his tired state and for some reason it almost angered him. As though these children had stolen hide and seek from the children in the village he had just left behind. Which was a ridiculous thought and he quickly smothered it in favor of staring into space and trying to stay awake.

Without warning the door the girl had entered from opened, and a young boy stuck his head inside, straw colored hair falling nearly to his shoulders. He fixed his blue eyes on Ludwig and then asked in a terse and sullen voice, “Is she here?”

Ludwig heard a sharp intake of breath from behind the curtain and quickly cleared his throat to cover the noise. He gave the boy a puzzled look, doing his best to pretend to be as befuddled as possible. He had always been horrible at acting, but either the boy was exceptionally bad at reading others or Ludwig looked tired enough to pass for confused (which admittedly he was), for a second later the boy gave an irritated sigh and slammed the door behind him.

A few moments passed in silence before the curtain moved again and one green eye peered out at Ludwig.

“That was close,” the girl whispered, her voice still so loud several of the vases trembled. She slid out from behind the curtain and made her way to Ludwig’s side, sitting next to him on the sofa. Ludwig shifted away, uncomfortable at the close proximity. He didn’t like children, and usually they were smart enough to pick up on his aversion and leave him alone. This one seemed immune or dense.

“If you’re still lost, I can help you become unlost now,” the girl eventually offered, swinging her feet back and forth. “I know this place like the back of my hand. Even the cellars and the servant’s quarters, although Auntie Lisa tells me to leave them alone but they don’t seem to mind. I get cakes and things from there sometimes.”

Ludwig remained silent for a long time, unsure how to properly respond. He set his teacup down and rested his hands on his knees.

“…I’m not really lost,” he finally admitted, the girl’s straightforward speech making him feel oddly at ease for the moment. “I was being a coward and trying to escape.”

“Escape?” The girl gave him a look of awe. “You’re a prisoner? Did you murder a person? Are you actually a thief – you told me you weren’t so if you say yes now that means that you are both a thief and a liar which is possibly the worst thing next to murdering a person.”

The onslaught of questions caught Ludwig off-guard and he quickly held up a hand in an attempt to quiet her.

“I’m not a criminal of any kind,” he said, his voice slightly irritated. “I’m… or I was accepting a position here.”

“Ah.” The girl looked him up and down. “…As… a gardener?” she guessed.

Ludwig shook his head.

“…A cook? We don’t have many boy cooks.”

Ludwig shook his head again and said, “Valet,” to make her stop playing her one-man guessing game.

“Oh.” The girl sounded disappointed for a moment but then her green eyes lit up again. She bounced slightly in her seat to turn and stare at Ludwig once more as she said excitedly, “Are you Ludwig? You are, yes? Ludwig the farmhand who likes apples?”

Ludwig recoiled at the sudden enthusiasm and before he could wonder how she knew his name found himself answering, “Yes.”

The girl pressed her hands against her cheeks and then suddenly burst out laughing.

“O-Oh… oh my goodness Gilbert is going to die from shock this is absolutely perfect!” she cackled, bouncing slightly on the sofa. “He’s been such a dejected slug refusing to play games or even read with us. It’s been incredibly obnoxious…”

Ludwig slowly inched away, not liking that suddenly the earl’s son had been dragged into the conversation.

The girl didn’t seem to notice and her cackles eventually subsided, but there was still a devious grin on her face as she slid off the couch. She turned to Ludwig, her hands pressed together.

“I won’t tell him though. Not yet. It will be so much better to see the look of shock on his face after he’s been kept in the dark even longer,” she said in obvious delight. “In fact I will tell Kirkland to inform the staff to keep mum about the whole thing and you should keep quiet as well.”

Ludwig briefly wondered who, exactly, she thought he would tell, but he nodded politely in response. Strange and unsettling dynamic these cousins had. Escape was sounding more and more preferable.

“Good,” the girl said, gracing him with a small smile. She headed towards the far door, pausing for a moment before she turned to Ludwig once more.

“If you still want to escape, though, it’s this door,” she said, tapping her knuckles against the door knob, her expression serious. “Then take a right down the long passage and another right at the fork. There’s a side door there for when we want to go out to the lawn without using those annoying steps.” She fell still and then said quietly, “But I hope you stay. If nothing else you are a loyal guardian of hiding and that deserves a place here.” With one last smile she headed out the door, closing it softly behind her.

The room was enveloped in stuffy silence once more.

Ludwig let out a slow breath, his eyes slipping shut as he fought off a headache.

A right down the long passage, another right at the fork.

It would take him about thirteen steps to reach the door. His other clothes and shoes were probably still in the hunting building. He could change and slip out and write another letter with a seven letter word instead of six and ask for the earl’s pardon.

Thirteen steps and he could escape and decline.

Ludwig opened his eyes and stared at the door’s ornate handle willing himself to move. But for whatever reason, true inertia escaped him. He remained sitting, calloused hands folded in his lap and eyes fixed on an intricate design in the wallpaper.

The door’s handle turned and Kirkland stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. He offered Ludwig the slightest of nods, and then spoke in an even keel.

“Well then, Mr. Schmidt. Are you ready to begin?”

Ludwig pushed himself to his feet, the porcelain cup on the table still somehow intact, the small roses pink and raw. He took a deep breath and thought of the two rights and the hunting room and then nodded once.

“Yes, Mr. Kirkland. I believe I am.”


	7. Mispl(a)ced

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had a rather awful day so this chapter is rather awful as well. but i wanted to write anyway because in doing so i have succeeded in writing a chapter a day of something for a full week. i do not know if i will be able to keep this up much longer but i am still glad to have met this tiny goal.
> 
> thank you, as always, for reading.

The manor, Ludwig quickly discovered, was a victim of multiple personalities.

If you missed a turn you could find yourself either in the most lavish ballroom ever designed or a room so Spartan hospital corridors looked garish in comparison.  
Kirkland had been leading him through the back hallways of the manor for what felt like an eon, and Ludwig was doing his best to both keep up and memorize where everything was as Kirkland spoke.

“And off to the right is the staircase that leads down to the kitchens and one flight lower to the coal and furnace rooms. I would not recommend going there, it is not a part of your job description and will most likely only depress you. To the right is the set of doors that leads to the serving area behind the dining room. Again as a valet your presence there will most likely not be required unless the kitchen and wait staff need you to fetch something last minute.”

“Yes, sir,” Ludwig said quietly, listening to the cheerful banter floating up from the kitchen below, the smell of fruit and baked goods making his stomach rumble loudly. He flushed and pressed a hand over his stomach, but Kirkland either hadn’t heard or was too polite to mention it. Given the man’s attitude Ludwig highly doubted he would have let the noise go without at least some sort of abrasive comment.

Kirkland turned a corner and headed up a flight of stairs, stopping at last in front of a door.

“This will be your room. As a valet you are entitled to a private one, so I suggest you make full use of it. It is a privilege allotted to only a few, so I would also suggest you be wary of inner-house schemes that may try and take it from you.”

Ludwig took a step into the room, his eyes widening. It was a sizeable space, but more than that, it was sparkling clean. The rich wood molding around the window was polished to a mirror surface. The smell of the linens – clean soap freshly cut grasses – was delicately wafted by the breeze that blew aside the pale lace curtains. Ludwig cast a questioning glance at Mr. Kirkland, who nodded and gestured for him to come inside.

“You will find several suits in the closet, courtesy of Lord Horschhorn,” Kirkland said, gesturing towards the small door against the east wall. “Please make use of them on work days. Mrs. Peeters and I expect you to conform to the house dress codes at all times. I have taken the liberty of providing you with a list of your duties and of the rules you are to obey during your employment here. It would be well advised that you spend the rest of the day reading and memorizing them. I will be quizzing you at five P.M. sharp, and as I must attend to the earl at exactly six o’clock, if I need to remind you of too many things you may rest assured that I will be exceedingly irritated and likely to amend your contract. Understood?”

Ludwig nodded and said, “Yes sir.” It was becoming a reflex. He would probably say ‘yes sir’ to the barkeep at the pub and be laughed out of town if he ever ventured beyond the manor walls again.

Kirkland raised an eyebrow but then said evenly, “At least you seem capable of taking orders. You meet the minimum requirement for a valet.” He paused for a moment. “…One more thing I may not have stressed in your booklet on the desk there. The position of valet is one of dignity and is the second highest honor in this house. Second only to my own position. It is my duty to see to it that you uphold the tradition of stateliness we have here, and any error on your part will inevitably reflect ten times stronger on myself. I do not enjoy looking a fool, Mr. Schmidt, and it would behoove you to keep any and all errors to a minimum. The staff will be watching you closely, and several of them are more than a little resentful of your employment, particularly considering you have no experience as a valet or even as a footman. Lord Horschhorn is taking a great risk hiring you. See to it that his kindness and trust are not misplaced.”

Ludwig nearly found himself saluting, but he still stood to attention as Kirkland spoke.

“It won’t be, sir. I promise.”

“Very good,” Kirkland said, what little passion that had edged its way into his voice rapidly disappearing. “Get changed and study the lists. And please do not go wandering the halls. Several of the staff and house have not been informed of your employment, and the sight of a stranger brazenly traipsing about may send some of the weaker hearted into a fright.”

Kirkland left after that, closing the door smartly behind him. Ludwig slowly sat down on the bed, his hand absently stroking the linens. They were soft. Incredibly soft and he was so tired…

He cast a glance at the lists on the desk before mentally calculating how long he could rest before he would need to wake up and study.

He fell asleep mid calculation, too exhausted to so much as stir when his head hit the pillows.

When he awoke the sun was much higher in the sky, and Ludwig immediately pushed himself out of bed with the frantic energy of the overslept. A quick glance at the clock informed him that it was one in the afternoon. He still had time.

After quickly changing into one of the neat suits hanging in the closet, he sat down at the desk and tugged the lists towards him. His stomach sank when he realized how thick they both were, but he did his best to clear the fog from his eyes and began reading. He may have accepted the position in a moment of insanity brought on by severe sleep deprivation, but that did not mean he was incapable of following through.

The first list detailed the expectations of a valet, and it was every bit as horrifyingly meticulous as Ludwig had feared. His main task, it seemed, was to be at the young lord’s beck and call for everything related to wardrobe, schedule, and transportation. In painfully neat script in one of the margins Kirkland had written, “And above all do not question his wishes unless they explicitly go against the laws of God or country. We’ve had incidents in the past.”

Ludwig ran a hand over his face and sat back, his stomach churning unpleasantly. Before he had been a servant in name only. They had been free to set their own pace in the fields, knowing that if they did not bring in enough harvest they would be the first to starve. Here it felt as though there were iron bands encircling his wrists, and bars on the windows casting shadows over his face. Exhaustion was an easy companion of melodrama, he knew, but still he felt uneasy.

He set the list of valet duties aside and picked up the one on house rules. It was much more straightforward and less ominous. The servants ate before the members of the house, got up before them, and went to bed after them. It didn’t seem entirely fair, but hopefully the young lord had a strict bedtime and Ludwig would be able to sleep roughly the number of hours he was accustomed. The rest of the rules involved mostly common sense. No servants were allowed in the family’s private quarters unless they were attending to a specific task at the explicit request of said family member. Guests were to be treated with the utmost courtesy, and rudeness, insubordination, and disheveled appearances were not tolerated. Theft or espionage was grounds for immediate termination and involvement of the law force, as were… dalliances.

Whatever those were.

Ludwig finally straightened up, his back cracking painfully after being hunched over for so long. He had difficulty reading at a distance, and while normally this did not pose much of an issue, reading Kirkland’s tiny handwriting had forced him to hold his nose practically against the papers for hours on end.

The clock chimed four, and Ludwig went to go have a kip on the bed, his eyes and head needing rest. He doubted Kirkland would actually quiz him on the rules. He seemed more the type to enjoy springing them on someone with no notice…

Ludwig was startled out of his doze by a heavy rapping on his door, and he quickly stood to answer it, fixing his hair as he walked.

Kirkland stood on the other side, his expression schooled as always. He stepped inside the room and glanced at Ludwig’s slightly rumpled bed.

“Enjoying a mid-afternoon nap?” he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Goodness I wasn’t aware you possessed the ability to study in your sleep. How wonderfully talented of you.”

Ludwig bit back his sleepy irritation and said politely, “I believe I am adequately prepared, sir.”

Kirkland raised an eyebrow but then took another step forward, effectively trapping Ludwig in the room.

Before Ludwig could gather his wits the butler began asking him question after question, hardly giving him time to respond before asking the next. Questions about his duties as a valet, house rules, even on the residence of the manor (which Ludwig barely managed to answer, having never met the other male cousin of the earl’s son).

It was close to half past five by the time Kirkland closed his mouth with an audible snap, but the calculating look never left his eyes.

“You pass,” he said finally, clasping his hands behind his back. “But barely. Your language, Mr. Schmidt, when you are aroused and flustered, betrays your coarse origins. Your propensity to dismiss titles and do away with the necessary formalities needs to be reigned in immediately if you wish to last more than a week at this estate. I do not have the authority to dismiss you but I can ensure your transition here be a great deal more unpleasant. But as you have passed muster, I will have your trunk brought up to your room following dinner. The family will be sitting down to their meal in approximately an hour and a half. You have until then to procure your own food and make your way to Lord Gilbert’s room to help him prepare.”

Ludwig nodded, still standing at attention, the habit helping him stay focused.

With one last glance, Kirkland turned on his heel and left Ludwig to his own devices.

Ludwig stared at the beautifully carved door for a long while before realizing he had forgotten to ask where the young lord’s room was.

He cursed softly as he sat down on the bed again, growing more and more positive with each slightly panicked breath that he was going to be dismissed before he had even lasted a day, much less a week. Kirkland’s little booklet had been extremely helpful in detailing certain aspects of helping his charge into the more complicated suits, but some of the terminology had gone straight over Ludwig’s head without diagrams to help him. And that was only the tip of the iceberg in terms of problems with his current condition.

The clock struck quarter ‘til, and Ludwig finally forced himself to leave the relative safety of his room. He passed no one on his way down the hall towards the stairs, save for a girl who looked like a scullery maid. She barely spared him a glance, her eyes fixed on the contents of the bucket she was carrying. Ludwig nearly got turned around, but the smell of bread and roasting meat saved him. He carefully picked his way down the slightly rickety steps, brushing past several other members of the staff who gave him small smiles and distrusting looks and every other expression in between. According to Kirkland’s book, the manor employed a staff of twenty two, not counting gardeners and part time workers. Ludwig felt like he must have passed all twenty two of them on the way down to the kitchen and succeeded only in getting in the way of every last one of them.

He finally cleared the last of the stairs and made his way into the kitchen, taking a moment to observe the actions of the only other man in the room – a gardener, most likely, from the soil clinging to his boots – and then mimicked him. He took a small loaf of bread and a plate and quickly sat down to begin eating. As he chewed the bread he studied the small dining area that was relegated for staff use. The farthest wall was full of little hooks with bells on them, each one carefully labeled. It didn’t take him long to find the bell for ‘Master Gilbert’s room, and was unsurprised to see that it had been cut, no doubt a task done outside of the watchful eyes of Mr. Kirkland.

There was also a clock on the wall that soon chimed the hour, and Ludwig quickly polished off his bread and cast one last look at the oak server. There were cuts of meat and greens there as well, but through a window built into the wall he could see the kitchen, where the women inside were hard at work, several men helping them as well and moving at a furious pace, obviously trying to get things ready in time for the family’s dinner.

Ludwig had yet to work a day. Bread was enough.

He carefully brushed his crumbs into the waste basket and set his plate underneath the window where several other dirty ones were stacked. He beat a hasty retreat after that, stopping only to check his appearance in a mirror that hung just outside the dining room. He looked exhausted but not disheveled. Exhaustion hadn’t been a fireable offense on Kirkland’s list.

Hopefully.

Ludwig took the stairs two at a time back to the main level and then tried to retrace his steps through the staff corridors. The passages were incredibly confusing, and he heard a clock squirreled away in some room chime a quarter past the hour, and he was no closer to finding the family’s quarters.

He pushed his way through a set of double doors with a few letters scratched on them, muttering under his breath, when a sudden scream stopped him in his tracks. He glanced wildly about before he caught the source of the noise, a young girl with short, blonde hair who was clutching a small box against her ample chest, her blue eyes wide as they stared at him.

Wonderful.

Ludwig quickly held his hands out, trying to calm her without moving any closer.

“Miss – Miss would you please – Miss please stop screaming,” he said, his voice growing louder with each subsequent ‘miss.’

Quite suddenly she shut her mouth again, but her round, blue eyes still stared at him from over the box.

“I-I’m sorry,” she stammered, her voice weak. “You… you gave me quite a shock, sir. Are you a guest, sir? Are you lost?”

A guest?

Ludwig quickly shook his head, trying to put a disarming smile on his face before he remembered Kirkland recommending against that.

“No, miss. I’m… new. The new valet,” he said, wincing at the awkwardness of his own tone.

The girl’s expression immediately brightened and she lowered the box slightly.

“The new valet? Oh, yes… her Ladyship was mentioning something about a new hire,” the girl said, her voice losing a bit of the nervous edge it had held before. Her cheeks turned red and she fiddled with the box lid before mumbling quietly, “But, sir, this is the lady’s quarters. If Mrs. Peeters catches you here not even Mr. Kirkland will be able to save you.”

Ludwig’s face paled and he took a step backwards, realizing too late that he should have paid better attention to the scribbling on the double doors.

“I’m so sorry,” he said quickly, wondering just how much worse his day could get. He hated tempting Fate with that thought and gamely pushed on. “I’m incredibly turned around… I’m looking for the young lord – for Lord Gilbert’s room.”

The girl lifted her hand and pointed back the way Ludwig had come.

“It’s… it’s down that corridor and then if you take the third door you’ll be in the main part of the house again,” she said quietly, tugging the box up to hide her face once more.

Ludwig let out a silent sigh of relief and gave the woman a nod of thanks.

“You have my gratitude, Miss…?”

“Sofia,” the girl said, her voice little more than a squeak.

“Miss Sofia.”

Ludwig quickly turned around and practically ran through the doors. The thought of losing his job before it began for being a letch was not one on which he relished dwelling.

He followed the girl’s advice and opened the third door. The sudden transition from the largely cool-colored servant’s hallways to the rich browns and reds of the manor proper took him a moment to adjust, but then he quickly started off down the hallway, trying to somehow discern by instinct which room was the young lord’s.

His footsteps slowed and he came to a halt in front of a large, oak door. What set it apart from the others in the hallway were the large scratches around the frame and the slight burn marks on the rug. Signs of a feral animal.

Ludwig briefly wondered what, exactly, had happened to the last valet.

Without giving himself time to be nervous, he rapped his knuckles against the door.

Only silence greeted him.

Ludwig frowned slightly and tried again, knocking a bit harder.

Still there was no response.

Ludwig glanced up and down the hallway, unsure of what to do. Kirkland had made it explicitly clear that all of the manor children were in their rooms prior to dinner so they could look presentable in front of their guardians. And yet here, clearly, was an empty room.

The floorboards shook slightly as the sound of footsteps echoed against the elaborate paintings and tapestries on the wall. Ludwig reacted on instinct, opening the door and hurrying inside to close it behind him. Valet or not he was in no mood for another surprise encounter. One screaming woman was enough for the day.

He waited until the footsteps had passed and then finally took stock of his surroundings. For as damaged as the door was, the boy’s room was painfully neat. Books on aviation and cartography had prominent places on a large bookshelf that spanned the wall in between two massive bay windows, which were both opened to let the cool summer breeze inside. A grand four poster bed was pressed against another wall, its linens a dark, royal blue. Pillows were artfully strewn around a large fireplace, and several books were stacked beside them. The chairs beside the mantle appeared to be unused, if their pristine condition and lack of reading material within reach were anything to go by.

But still, there was one component missing.

The room’s occupant was nowhere to be seen.

Ludwig frowned slightly and pushed himself away from the door, curiosity and annoyance getting the better of him. While it didn’t surprise him that the boy defied predictability, he would have thought that Kirkland’s influence and strict order would have somehow seeped into the young lord’s head via osmosis, ensuring that he at least kept rules of punctuality.

Apparently not.

Ludwig hesitated a moment and then carefully picked his way across the room to the bookshelf, unable to resist taking note of the volumes stored on the shelves. One in particular caught his eye, its spine decorated with a pattern of serpent scales. The title was too blurry for Ludwig to read, but when he took yet another step closer a noise by the window made him quickly back away. It was a heavy, scraping sound, and before Ludwig could take proper stock of the situation, a pale white hand reached out to grab the edge of the sill, and a moment later the young lord hoisted himself inside. He sank to the ground, thin chest heaving and cheeks smeared with dirt. His face bore a weary look. He did not seem to notice Ludwig, who stood still as though turned to stone, unsure of what to do.

The young lord slowly pushed himself to his feet and began to make his way towards the bed when Ludwig finally thought to speak.

“Good ev—”

The boy whirled around, his face pale and his eyes wide with alarm, one hand grabbing for the post of the bed to steady himself.

Ludwig internally winced, but managed to hold his ground until the boy blinked and shook himself out of his fright. He gave Ludwig an odd look before a bemused expression took hold of him.

“Farmhand, whatever are you doing in my room?”

His eyes lit up and he took an eager step forward.

Ludwig swallowed heavily, suddenly painfully aware that he had lost whatever ground he’d held over the boy out in the garden that day.

“Could it be… you accepted the post?” the boy asked, letting out a sharp burst of laughter. He pressed a slender hand against his face, still laughing uproariously as he fell backwards onto the bed, starting to hiccup when he tried to speak.

“Y-You… you look… so ridiculous… in Kirkland’s old suit no less…”

Ludwig tensed and glared at the boy, but all he said was, “If you could enjoy the apparent humorous bent the day has taken while getting cleaned up I would appreciate it, my lord.”

The earl’s son let out another burst of laughter, rolling slightly back and forth atop the bed.

“S-Stop stop it’s too much!” he wheezed, letting out an undignified snort that seemed to catch him off guard enough to slow his laughter. The boy carefully pushed himself up, still clutching at his side. “Aha… oh that… yes.” He wiped at his eyes and then stood, fixing Ludwig with a small grin.

“Sorry. It’s just… like looking at the livestock dressed in clothing at the fair. The intent is to make people laugh, yes? No hard feelings?”

Ludwig’s eye twitched slightly.

“No, sir.”

“Good, good!” The boy pressed his fingertips together and then cast an askance look at the window. “Now. As much as I would love to bask in this moment for the foreseeable future, that will have to wait until after dinner. I’m assuming you have no idea what you are doing so I will do us both a massive favor and get ready myself this time and for all times in the future until it truly sinks in that I have been reduced to having a farmhand be my valet. Once I have resigned myself to this fact I imagine the hilarity of the situation will wear off drastically, so I am not looking forward to inviting that moment any sooner than need be.”

For once, Ludwig had to (silently) admit his gratitude. “Very good, my lord. Should I –”

“Ah ah ah.” The earl’s son wagged his finger in Ludwig’s face, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet as he grinned. “You are to ‘should I’ and ‘may I’ never. I will tell you what you should and may do before you need ask. And what you should do right now is close your eyes and stand there until I tell you otherwise.”

Ludwig stared at the boy for a long moment before allowing himself to obey. He honestly had no idea how to go about… dressing someone, and if the young lord was willing to play pretend with the valet it would honestly be the best thing that happened since Ludwig had set foot in the manor. So he closed his eyes and remained perfectly still and listened to the earl’s son dart about the room and splash water around in the bathroom before the creak of floorboards announced his return.

Ludwig kept his eyes closed, but he could still hear the glee in the young lord’s voice.

“Stay, farmhand. And don’t touch any of my things.”

All Ludwig heard was another bright laugh and the slam of a door before he opened his eyes, glaring at the spot where the earl’s son had been only moments ago.

Stay.

The order rankled, but Ludwig sat in place and watched the sun set through the open windows. His stomach growled with hunger once more, but he ignored it.

Proving his ability to be obedient wasn’t necessarily proving the young lord’s arrogance right.

He just had to keep telling himself that.


	8. Reconcili(a)tion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> after meeting my goal of a chapter a day for a week, i decided to take a little break. i will continue to write as quickly as i can, but i have been neglecting several other things i would like to do so updates will be slightly less frequent from here on out, most likely. i do not plan on taking any long breaks from this fic, though, don’t worry. i hope new followers who are used to frequent updates won’t be disappointed.

The upper crust apparently took their time with dinner.

Of course they did. What else was there for the rich to do besides laze about and admire their possessions? And drink and eat until they were sick. There was probably a vomitorium somewhere in the house in the grand Roman tradition.  
After the third hour of waiting, Ludwig’s temper had reached a boiling point. He stood up, his legs full of pins and needles from sitting so long, and wobbled his way towards the door. Just as he was about to open it, however, the doorknob twisted in his hand and he heard voices on the other side. He took a step back, which of course was when his leg chose to give out from under him like it was made of nothing but splintered wood.

Ludwig landed heavily on the floor just as the door opened and the young lord came inside. The earl’s son stared down at him, a slightly upset look crossing his face before his expression turned painfully neutral.

“Trying to escape, farmhand?” he asked, shutting the door behind him and striding past Ludwig as though he weren’t there. He seated himself on a pillow in front of the fire and grabbed one of the many books stacked next to the cushions.

Ludwig was sure his face was red with embarrassment, but he pushed himself up and stood to attention, resigning himself to doing things properly for the time being.

“No, my lord. Merely stretching my legs,” he said in an even voice.

Red eyes flicked up from the book and studied Ludwig for a moment before visibly dismissing him.

“Eliza told a different story,” the earl’s son said lightly, turning the page of his book. “She said she stumbled upon you in one of the drawing rooms early this morning and that you were quite keen to escape. Sudden change of heart to accompany your updated wardrobe?”

“You could say that, my lord.”

There came a sudden flurry of movement from the cushions by the fire and Ludwig barely managed to duck in time. The book Gilbert had been reading went sailing by his head and hit the wall with a loud bang that knocked one of the hanging portraits slightly askew.

Ludwig straightened himself up immediately, snapping before he could think to stop himself, “What in God’s name are you doing?!”

The earl’s son peered up at him from the pillows, a calculating look in his eye before he smiled.

“I wanted to see what you would do,” he said lightly, picking up another book and resuming his reading. “And I may have also wanted to hit you with a book. There is a distinct possibility I wanted to see its spine bludgeon you severely on the forehead. In fact I would say that was the driving force behind the outburst. Forehead contusion.”

Ludwig ran his fingers through his hair in agitation, his heart still pounding in his chest.

“What could I have possibly done in the last five seconds that would make you want to throw a book at me?” he asked tersely. “I have obeyed every ridiculous order you gave me and –”

“You were trying to leave.”

The young lord’s voice gave Ludwig pause, and he stared at the boy in disbelief.

The earl’s son turned a page.

“Also because the past two times you’ve spoken you dropped the necessary honorific when referring to me. Being startled always brings a man’s true vernacular to the forefront.”

Before Ludwig could so much as open his mouth to begin apologizing the young lord held up a hand.

“Spare me. Please.”

He turned to glance up at Ludwig, the fire catching in his red eyes and turning them to eerie jewels. It was distinctly unsettling.

“I am not a socialist, farmhand. I do not believe the majority of your class possesses the locution and mental facilities necessary to do the sorts of jobs relegated to us. But I find that when people speak in ‘lords’ and ‘sirs’ they do so first and foremost to mask their true intentions. That is one custom I would gladly discard in favor of transparency of thought.”

The young lord let out an undignified snort and turned back to his book as he muttered, “And to be quite honest the amount of ironic scorn laced in every one of your ‘sir’s would make Iago blush. From now on you will call me by my Christian name unless we are in the presence of Papa and then you will be as snootily formal as you can pretend to be. You are a farmhand and graceful language is unbecoming. It is like watching a parrot try and bring the requisite amount of passion to Bizet.”

Ludwig’s stomach churned with anger and he could not keep from biting out, “Am I to understand you wish me to dispense with any and all semblance of respectful tone in my language?”

“What?” The young lord let out a bright laugh. “Oh heaven’s no. No. Not yet. None of my valets have succeeded in discarding the painfully affected distance they have spent their lives perfecting, but as you are of the second lowest class imaginable I have faith you will fall back on your habits easily enough. But you are to still be polite, of course. And charming when need be and subservient, but never completely false. That is all I ask.”

“…As you wish, my l—”

Ludwig made a frustrated noise and the young lord gave him another disappointed look and clicked his tongue.

“Oh dear. Perhaps I was expecting too much of your rough heritage,” the boy drawled. “Kirkland must have you well and truly scared. Or my father. Or the thought of how utterly miserable your existence will be if you are banned from this estate. It is quite easy to ascribe papers to a man and rob him of any chance of future employment.”

The saccharine smile on the boy’s face did little to assuage Ludwig’s anger, which was already steadily rising from confusion and distrust, and with the last little threat it overwhelmed him.

“You are the most horrible, insufferable brat I have ever had the displeasure of meeting,” he snarled, his cheeks flushing when the boy merely laughed again and turned to stare expectantly up at him.

“Oh am I? The very most?” the boy asked, rocking back and forth slightly. “You must have met a fair number of horrible, insufferable brats to be able to make such a claim.”

“Every word out of your wretched mouth is only proving my point further,” Ludwig muttered, but his anger was quickly fading to be replaced by embarrassment. He had just snapped at someone ten years his junior and threw a temper tantrum as though he himself were all of five years old. And still the earl’s son was smiling at him and did not seem in the least bit phased.

“Perhaps,” the young lord said before falling silent, seemingly content to let the uncomfortable atmosphere speak for itself until he chose to break it.

“Why exactly do you loathe me so much, farmhand?” the boy abruptly asked, pushing himself up to sit on one of the chairs, gesturing to the other. “Please. Sit. I suspect this will take a while, although it hardly seems fair considering you have known me a grand total of less than twenty four hours.”

“I will stand,” Ludwig said stiffly, clasping his hands behind his back. “And I do not loathe you. I do not really possess the ability to process emotions as grandiose as ‘loathing.’ Or if I do then I choose to pretend I do not. I dislike you because ever since you stumbled upon me taking a simple apple you have done your best to constantly remind me that you hold the power of employment over my head. You, a spoilt child of the wealthiest man within two hundred kilometers, who has never known what it means to break your body and mind for the sake of simply existing, of living a single day of misery longer, who could never understand fearing for one’s livelihood, are archetypical of your class. Boys like you grow up into men who cannot comprehend what it is like to be forced to discard what it means to be human. To lose every aspect of culture and language that sets our species apart from all of the rest of God’s creatures. To lose the desire to create and express and fashion words into manifestos and epics and instead degrade yourself to simply survive with the hope of a life beyond the grave where you can finally live. But you and your ilk consign the lives of children to smelting plants and textile factories so you can consume the creations of the middling classes in an effort to cast an illusion of living on the pallor of your existence. You are the future of this country and while I would never wish a Tsar’s death upon you and your family it is hard not to emphasize with the sentiments of those that buried those bodies in the woods.”

Ludwig’s voice had risen in volume by the end until he was nearly shouting. It was a miracle the rest of the house was not rushing into the room to oust him immediately. He stood there, face slightly red and fists clenched at his sides, his ears ringing with anger. It was easily the most he had said in one sitting in ten years, and he had never felt so unmoved by his own thoughts. Putting voice to them often had that effect. But he stood by his convictions and met the young lord’s gaze straight on.

The earl’s son, however, simply stared at him as though he had suddenly burst into flames, and then pressed a hand over his mouth, stifling a laugh.

“You’re trembling like a little rabbit before a snake,” he laughed, his voice muffled by his hand. “That is more impassioned than I thought you ever could be.” He wiped tears of mirth from his eyes and gestured to the chair again. “Sit. And that is not a request, farmhand.”

Ludwig’s pride took another horrible beating, but finally he lowered himself into the chair, glowering at the fire as he could no longer meet the young lord’s eyes without wanting to pick up a book from the floor and repeat the boy’s earlier childish gesture.

“Very good. It is wonderful to see ideology bending to the will of the bourgeoisie with a simple word.”

The young lord sounded incredibly smug.

“And that is all your words are, farmhand,” he continued. “Ideology that is already woefully out of date even in its infancy. I can sit here and refuse to use your Christian name and make you lick my boots until your tongue is raw and bleeding and while that sounds only mildly appealing the mere fact that you would undoubtedly do it speaks to the unwavering understanding of class that has been embedded in your brain since you were a child. Your class is simply inferior. If the men out there working the fields were even mildly intelligent, they would study on their own to better themselves and raise their position to as high as is possible for commoners.”

The earl’s son smiled and rested his elbows on his knees, leaning forward to stare fixedly at Ludwig.

“Do you understand, farmhand? If they were as smart as you are they would be where you are. Here, in this manor, working towards bettering themselves. Instead they are out in the fields working towards bettering our lives. Your employment here was an inevitability. I do not know anything about your background – other than that you most likely have some sort of military experience given your propensity to stand at attention – and that was not an open invitation for you to take a jaunt down memory lane. You somehow became educated, devoured the opportunities of those who did not, and now you are reaping the benefits of your superior will. And yet you sit here in a mansion and discharge this absolute drivel about the working man when you have left them far behind and expect me to show anything but amusement in the face of such flagrant contradiction.”

The earl’s son sat back, crossing one leg over the other, the smile still on his face.

“You will forgive me if I am less than impressed. A rousing speech, to be sure, but I am not an easily manipulated mob wretch nor am I unfamiliar with the ideology you apparently hold dear. Children will always die abused because they are the easiest to abuse. In a century there will be nothing different. The idea of class is in essence confining oneself to one’s limit of ability, and it is embedded deep into the genes of every human being, just as the weaker animals fall behind the stronger. If God truly wished for equality, all men would be born with an equal capacity for intelligence and drive, but they are not. It has nothing to do with race or dare I say even gender. It has everything to do with capacity and will. It is science and truth, and the world will be proven flat before ideology ever trumps evidence.”

Ludwig’s shoulders grew tense and he did not take his eyes off of the fire for the entire excruciating duration of the young lord’s speech. He wanted to argue his point, but it was difficult when the man had essentially complimented him while ripping his core convictions to shreds. The young lord was a wordsmith, and while his speech was hardly elegant it twisted its way into Ludwig’s mind and coiled inside his skull. It was infuriating and Ludwig felt a fool unable to match wits with a child while the serpent’s poison sank into every crevice of his brain.

Something brushed against his arm, and it started Ludwig enough that he glanced away from the fire. The earl’s son had moved to sit on the floor, and his fingers were lightly tapping Ludwig’s arm. Ludwig pulled away, the scowl on his face deepening. The young lord looked mildly crushed, and then said in a sulky voice, “It isn’t any fun if you merely sit there and stare off into space like a lobotomy patient. I expected you to fight back with another rousing yet ultimately pedantic speech. I feel cheated, farmhand. Utterly cheated.”

“It is not my job to provide you a verbal punching bag,” Ludwig muttered, scrubbing at his arm to rid himself of the feeling of the young man’s skeletal fingers.

To his surprise, the earl’s son laughed and leaned against his seat.

“True, true. That is not in the valet contract,” he hummed, pursing his lips slightly in thought. “I wonder if I could twist Kirkland’s arm enough to amend it…” The boy sighed and lay down atop the pillows on his stomach, his feet kicking in the air. Ludwig did his best not to comment on the rather infantile behavior, and remained still.

“You are a good deal more fun when you are comfortable in your element, which is why I insist you call me Gilbert,” the earl’s son said. He hummed softly. “Which you have yet to take advantage of. It’s a rare gift being able to call someone like me so intimately… Does it make you uncomfortable?”

Ludwig shifted in his seat, and said a very terse, “Slightly.”

The earl’s son laughed again and rolled over onto his side, looking like a satiated cat lounging in front of the fire. “Interesting. For someone longing to abolish the classes you certainly do cling to the stringent and utterly useless rules they impose…” He suddenly reached out to gently prod Ludwig’s knee. The older man growled in warning, but the young lord seemed unfazed.

“You cannot be that much more my senior. How old are you? Twenty five? Twenty six?”

“Eight,” Ludwig muttered, shifting so he was completely out of the boy’s reach.

The young lord raised an eyebrow in mild surprise.

“That old. Well, that is still only eleven years and a few months difference. We are practically peers and yet you refuse to use my first name even when I have given you explicit permission and even requested that you do so.”

Ludwig gave the young lord an unimpressed look and then said dryly, “Eleven years and a few months apart are hardly peers. And I believe it is enough that I leave off your title. Despite my convictions I do want to remain employed for at least a week and somehow I doubt his Lordship would appreciate me being so casual.”

“My dear farmhand, there is no one else in the room, and Papa, while certainly capable, is not possessed of magical hearing,” the earl’s son said mildly.

Ludwig let out a tired sigh, starting to understand why the other valets had left so quickly. The boy had the unnatural ability to wear a man down in an inordinate amount of time. It was worth the risk of unemployment to merely get him to be quiet.

“Gilbert.”

The young lord fell silent and then a livid expression took hold of him.

“How dare you,” he snapped, pushing himself to his feet. “I did not think you would actually be insubordinate enough to take the bait. I will inform Kirkland immediately that you are unfit for service.”

The earl’s son stormed out the door, leaving a very befuddled and annoyed Ludwig to try and gather his wits.

His eye twitched.

The little –

He turned as the door suddenly creaked open again, and a moment later the young lord peered inside, a devilish grin on his face.

“You are incredibly gullible. This is also good to know.”

Ludwig stared aghast at the boy, torn between righteous anger and mild amusement. The young lord was a very convincing actor, despite his abrupt and truncated performance.

“And you are even crueler than I had anticipated,” he muttered.

Gilbert laughed and sat by the fire, and Ludwig could hear the pleased smile in his voice without having to look.

“Come now. It isn’t as though you stumbled upon me torturing small animals for my own vicious amusement. I merely played on very obvious and predictable fears. A child could have seen through my ruse.”

Gilbert clapped his hands together and then reached out to tug on Ludwig’s suit sleeve.

“Farmhand – farmhand look at me it is very important that you pay attention.”

Ludwig reluctantly turned to give Gilbert a slightly sour look. The boy didn’t seem to care and continued talking.

“Tomorrow I will give you a proper tour of the manor. I imagine Kirkland only took you around the servant’s quarters but those are so painfully boring and quite dangerous. I have nearly broken my neck fleeing the vengeful Mrs. Peeters – the head housekeeper, by the way – on those rickety steps. And the whole place constantly smells of bread yeast and bleach and sadness. Plus if you are to learn the ropes quickly enough to ensure that you past Kirkland’s muster you will need to be able to seamlessly move from the manor proper side to the servant side and blend in with both companies.”

Ludwig stared at the boy as he babbled on and on, suddenly more animated than he had ever seen him. Gilbert’s eyes were lit up and his long fingers were dancing up and down the delicate embroidery of the sofa cushion and the smile on his face was nearly angelic it was so pure and delighted. Ludwig was stunned into compliance, barely able to muster a nod.

Gilbert beamed as thought it were Christmas, and reached out to give Ludwig’s shoulder a friendly pat.

“Wonderful. We will have you a suitable valet before Kirkland’s first check. He was rather resentful of the hire and I highly doubt he has done or will do much to train you outside of having you memorize a few very basic rules. I have had more than enough valets to be able to properly instruct you and ensure you keep your job.”

“Wait,” Ludwig found himself saying, suddenly completely lost. “You have been gunning for my expulsion ever since we had the misfortune to cross paths. No man changes convictions that quickly.”

The smile fell slightly from Gilbert’s face before he glanced away. The uncomfortable silence no longer seemed welcome, and Ludwig found himself regretting the question.

But after a moment more Gilbert merely shrugged and said loftily, “I do not need to explain my reasoning. You are entertaining for the time being and as I have another month before a new shipment of books arrives from the university I am starved for a diversion. My cousins are annoying beyond the telling of it now that they have been ensnared by the surly grip of adolescence and none of them share my interests. That is all the information you need.”

“So I am to be in essence a plaything for you, is that it?” Ludwig asked, mildly annoyed but too grateful for the promise of assistance to truly protest.

“In a word,” Gilbert said, examining his nails. “But my mother will be by in a few minutes to check on me and I don’t think she would be too pleased to find you here disrupting my studies.”

He stood and shooed Ludwig towards the door. “I will be by your room to pick you up at five sharp,” he said, opening the door and pushing Ludwig out into the hallway. “Don’t you dare oversleep or I will be extremely cross and will throw a huge temper tantrum in the middle of the hallway to elicit the pity and scorn of your peers.”

Ludwig barely had time to turn and cast a questioning look at Gilbert before the door was shut in his face. He ran his fingers through his disheveled hair, trying to gather his bearings. He wasn’t sure which of the young lord’s personalities bothered him more, the sly, scheming aristocrat or the overly enthusiastic and oddly charming young man. That the two resided in the same body was a difficult thing to comprehend.

Ludwig turned and slowly made his way down the hallway, trying to remember how to return to the servant’s side of the house. He finally located the small door and a few minutes later was sitting on his bed, staring at the clock. It was already nearing midnight and he knew better than to go against the young lord’s demands. Five o’clock.

With a quiet groan Ludwig lay down on his bed, his hands pressed against his eyes. He wanted very badly to regret his decision, but Gilbert’s – the young lord’s – convictions made it difficult.

Ludwig pushed himself up and slowly got ready for bed, the unfamiliar sounds of the new house unsettling him slightly. He settled down under the covers and stared up at the whitewashed ceiling, listening to the clock tick away the seconds of potential sleep.

It wasn’t until well after midnight that he finally drifted off, his dreams troubled by endless corridors with garden walls.


	9. (A)cquiescence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’m frustrating myself with how slowly their relationship is progressing (THERE IS A REASON I WRITE ONE SHOTS AND ALREADY ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIPS) so this chapter is a bit of a cheat. i have no desire to write a novel length story (i am quite positive i lack both the conviction and the attention span to do so) and this will hopefully give the characters a gentle nudge (shove) in the right direction.
> 
> i would also like to thank everyone for the reviews and private messages concerning this fic, and thank you to everyone who is still reading. y’all are great. top notch. 
> 
> also i’m going to stop spamming the germancest tag with this. sorry aaah.

Five o’clock came much too early.

At four until the hour Ludwig had somehow managed to wake up. He splashed water on his face and changed into a new suit, grimacing at the slight hint of stubble on his cheeks. After a bit of searching in the small bathroom attached to his room (the amount of luxury even in the servant’s quarters was staggering) he found a safety razor and quickly shaved, managing somehow not to nick himself.  
At two minutes past the hour his door opened and Gilbert stepped inside, calling out far too loudly, “Good morning, farmhand! Farmhand, are you awake?”

A moment later he poked his head inside the bathroom, grinning wildly. “Good morning, farmhand,” he repeated, wrinkling his nose. “Ugh. Shaving? In front of the son of your employer? How obscene.” The boy was dressed in a slightly rumpled suit that on closer inspection was the same suit he had been wearing yesterday. And the jacket was inside out.

Ludwig gave the earl’s son a bland look as he put the razor away.

“You are cheerful, my – god,” he muttered. He wet his fingers to slick his hair back quickly before turning to leave the small room, but Gilbert’s slight frame was blocking the narrow doorway. The boy looked exceedingly amused.

“Goodness, farmhand. Just because I told you to dispense with the formalities does not make me a god. Obscenity and blasphemy within the first few minutes of the day. You very may well break a record.”

Ludwig closed his eyes for a moment, summoning his patience, before he asked as evenly as he could, “Are you ready to begin the tour?”

“Yes, yes. Straight to business,” Gilbert said, pressing his fingertips together as he moved back towards the door. “The servant’s quarters are as dull as watching paint dry so we will breeze through them as quickly as possible. Also so I am not caught by Mrs. Peeters or Kirkland. Neither of them like me very much, especially when they catch me back here.”

Gilbert’s hand had closed over the doorknob when Ludwig’s reluctant sense of duty kicked him.

“A moment.”

Gilbert glanced up at Ludwig, looking decidedly bemused. Ludwig wordlessly tugged the boy’s jacket off and turned it right-side out. Gilbert blinked in surprise but then shrugged the jacket back on, a slightly troubled expression taking hold of his features. Ludwig ignored him and brushed his hands down the young lord’s shoulders to smooth the fabric. Dim memories of helping his father into his suits on Sundays guided his hands, although the shoulders in front of him were much slimmer than the ones he remembered.

“All right, farmhand, that is quite enough.”

The mumbled voice startled him out of his slight reverie, and Ludwig stepped back, swallowing his apology.

“I would not need to go to such lengths if you did not wear the same clothes as yesterday,” was all he said, keeping his tone as mild as possible. Gilbert gave him another curious look but then shrugged and stepped out into the hallways.

“You are the first one to notice. Most simply assume I am messy by nature. Now step lively, farmhand. As lively as you can with your boat feet.”

“…Boat feet?” Ludwig muttered under his breath, following after the young lord.

A moment of watching Gilbert walk down the halls, however, made him realize that the boy did perhaps have a point. Gilbert hopped skillfully from floorboard to floorboard, moving with practiced ease to avoid the squeaky spots. Ludwig felt like he was hitting every one, and Gilbert must have picked up on it as well for a moment later he turned around to stare up at the man with a deadpan expression.

“Farmhand you are as graceful as a drunken ox,” he complained, coming to a stop in front of a nondescript door. “We are now entering Peeters territory and if you get me caught because of your blundering I will make your life very unpleasant. Even more so than it already is by nature of you being… who you are.”

Ludwig could only nod and continue to follow after Gilbert, listening to the boy’s surprisingly subdued voice as he gave him a ‘tour.’ Of sorts.

“This is Kirkland’s study to the left here. There is a special air vent that leads from his room to the former head gardener’s room. You can hear almost everything he says. He has been here for almost three decades and has not caught on. Which is hysterical and also useful. It is hysteriful. On the other side of those double doors there is the female servant’s quarters and Peeters’ domain. You must never go there, no matter how buxom the maids may be. Kirkland might believe he is in charge but Peeters holds the true power. Remember that.”

Gilbert took a sharp left and headed through a narrow door Ludwig would have missed. It was practically a closet, but inside was the start of a very rickety looking flight of stairs.

“Close the door behind you, farmhand,” the young lord ordered, and Ludwig hesitated before complying. It was horribly dark, a few beams coming through wall slats the only source of light. The manor had been fitted with electric lights in the main part of the house, but the servant’s quarters had not yet been renovated, to Ludwig’s sudden dismay.

He remained perfectly still, listening to the earl’s son move up the stairs. He would never admit this to anyone – least of all the arrogant brat dragging him no doubt to his untimely death – but he had a slight fear of the dark. Remnants from an earlier time in his life, no doubt, that he simply did not want to dwell on.

Try as he might, he could not force himself to move even one foot, and the sound of Gilbert’s movements were getting further and further away until finally Ludwig was forced to speak.

“Gilbert – I can’t see.”

The noises immediately ceased before a dark, evil chuckle came floating down from above. Had Ludwig been alone in the dark and heard that noise belief in the devil would have been firmly and permanently embedded in his psyche.

“Oh farmhand… you are so much more fun than I had ever hoped.”

The stairs barely shook as Gilbert came tramping down, but a moment later Ludwig felt something grab his hand in the dark. Cold, skeletal fingers threaded with his own and he was suddenly tugged upwards. He stumbled after the young lord, momentarily glad that it was pitch black. He was sure his face was bright red with the completely humiliation of being guided around by a boy ten years his junior. Wonderful.

The stairs went up into the dark, far higher than Ludwig thought they would. It grew lighter the farther up they went, and soon light was pouring through cracks in between the slats of the wall. Ludwig could finally see Gilbert’s outline ahead of him, enough to spot the Cheshire grin on the young lord’s face. Ludwig tried to pull his hand away, but the earl’s son tightened his grip and said lightly, “I am taking no chances, farmhand. If you broke your neck then where would I be.”

“Trapped in a stairwell by a large corpse. Obviously,” Ludwig muttered, resigning himself to the intense grip.

They climbed for a minute longer before Gilbert suddenly stopped and let go of his hand. In the dim light, Ludwig could make out the outline of a door just ahead, with a large, ancient lock holding it shut. Gilbert fished around in his pocket for a moment before hunching over the door handle. There came a horrible screech of metal against metal before the boy stood again and pushed the door open.

Ludwig had to close his eyes immediately as daylight came flooding in, nearly blinding him, but he could still hear Gilbert’s teasing voice.

“Come on then, farmhand, look lively. It’s only sunshine.”

The slim fingers closed over his own once more as he was tugged forward and out into the light. He cautiously opened his eyes and glanced around, realizing in a moment where they were. As though it could have been anywhere else.

The roof of the manor stretched out before them, pocketed by little towers every now and then like the one they had just climbed out of. Three larger towers, however, rose up higher than the others and were covered with windows. They were just too high to make out what was inside, but Ludwig pictured small sitting rooms or even an observatory, perhaps. The edge of the roof had a waist high railing running around the edge, ornately decorated and impeccably preserved, even when inspected from up close.

The earl’s son ignored all of the architectural details and dragged Ludwig towards the far end of the roof.

“You are to tell no one I have this key, is that understood?” he said lightly. “Kirkland would have my head and Peeters… I shudder to think.”

“As I have wondered before, who, exactly, do you think I would tell?” Ludwig muttered, slipping a bit on the gravel covering the roof.

“Your kind is always gossiping. Not that my cousins are any better,” Gilbert said with a little sniff, finally falling silent as they reached the far railing. He let go of Ludwig’s hand and hoisted himself up a bit to peer over the rail. Ludwig’s heart leapt in his chest and he quickly hurried forward to surreptitiously grab the back of the boy’s jacket. Just in case.

The young lord had a delighted look on his face as he ordered, “Come look at this. I did not drag you all the way up here just to shuffle about in the gravel.”

Ludwig braced himself and then peered over the lip of the railing. A few feet below the base of the roof, a bird’s nest was wedged into a gutter pipe. Several baby birds peered out at them, their black eyes wide and their beaks open.

“The gardener is in charge of cleaning these gutters as well, but I stole his key so he cannot come up here anymore,” Gilbert said, a hint of vindictive glee in his voice. “He washed several other nests away and the dogs ate up all the eggs that fell to the ground. It really was quite tragic.”

He reached his long fingers towards the nest, cooing softly. The birds continued to stare, seemingly nonplussed by the human attention.

“Yes, they’re… lovely,” Ludwig said, carefully tugging Gilbert backwards slightly. If the earl’s son were to fall to his death under his watch future employment would be the least of his concerns. “We can admire them from a distance as well. Or from the ground. I am sure the earl has a pair of binoculars he would lend you.”

Without looking away from the birds Gilbert reached up and waved his hand about, obviously trying to brush Ludwig away.

“Oh hush, I’ve been up here on my own a dozen times and only almost fell once,” he said, his feet kicking slightly as he leaned down a bit more. Ludwig made an alarmed noise and grabbed the young lord around the waist, pulling him backwards and away from the potential fall, despite his squawking and flailing about.

“Wh – Farmhand release me at once!” Gilbert ordered, hitting Ludwig’s arm with a closed fist and dragging his feet against the roof. Ludwig ignored the glancing blows and did not let go until they were far away from the edge. Only then did he release the boy, and was unsurprised when he received a quick kick to the shins in thanks for his efforts.

He narrowed his eyes but quickly grabbed the back of the boy’s jacket again when he started to storm back towards the edge.

“Farmhand you – I order you to let me go!” Gilbert said sharply, squirming until he freed himself from the jacket, leaving a frustrated Ludwig holding the cloth with an irritated look on his face. He draped the boy’s jacket over his arm and moved to his side again.

“I will need you to put down in writing that I did not push you. Just in case you do fall,” he muttered, folding the jacket neurotically as he eyed the alarming angle at which the young lord was leaning over the railing.

“Please relax and rest assured that I would pull you down with me were I to fall. I need something to brake my landing and cushion the blow,” the young lord said absently, the smile on his face once more as he stared at the birds.

“Charming.”

Ludwig forced himself to turn his attention away from Gilbert to appreciate the view. The full extent of the manor lands stretched out before them, and off to the left he could see the fields where he had worked only a few days ago. They were too far away to make out the figures of individual workers, but still Ludwig had to look away after only a moment, a slight twinge of guilt distracting him from his current situation. The sun was already well over the horizon, and the summer sky was cloudless. Smoke rose from several of the chimneys that stuck up through the roof like metal trees, and Ludwig knew that meant that the rest of the staff was awake. One of Kirkland’s rules was that he had to observe breakfast with the rest of the servants unless a member of the family needed him.

Ludwig cleared his throat, and when Gilbert showed no sign of turning his interest away from the birds, cleared it again.

“What, farmhand,” the boy said, his voice carrying an edge to it. “Is there something stuck in your throat? Your sense of inopportune timing, perhaps?”

“I believe it is breakfast time for me now. So if my presence is no longer required –”

“It is required. Kirkland will have me to answer to if he gives you any grief for missing staff meals,” Gilbert interrupted, pushing himself off the railing once more and stretching. “He is such a stickler for his silly rules. I believe it would do him good to have a rebellious employee for once. Even if that employee is not rebelling of his own volition.”

Ludwig wondered, then, if that meant he would not be getting anything to eat, but he stayed quiet and watched the earl’s son as he ran around the roof, sliding on the gravel and generally behaving as any teenager would. The boy seemed utterly unconcerned with anything but his own agenda, and Ludwig was beginning to understand that he would be required to follow his plans, regardless of how nonsensical they were.

He remained still as the boy skidded to a halt in front of him, a huge grin on his angular face. His pants from the knees down were covered in a thick layer of dust, and Ludwig dreaded having to explain that to the launderer.

“You are looking rather peckish, farmhand. What say we finish the tour and then you can watch me eat breakfast,” Gilbert said, peering up at Ludwig.

Ludwig bit back a sigh, but still had to ask, “I did not think valets were by their master’s sides quite so much. Were you planning on wanting some alone time at any point during the day?”

Gilbert laughed and patted Ludwig’s shoulder before turning on his heel.

“Oh farmhand. The amount that you know about the job of a valet could barely fill a thimble. You are to be at my beck and call whenever I beckon or call for you. I hope that is simplified enough for you to comprehend fully.”

Ludwig wordlessly followed Gilbert, trying to decide if simply being with the boy constantly was better or worse than having to be with the staff more. At least he knew Gilbert, unpredictable as he was. The staff was a great bunch of the unknown, and the fewer people Ludwig had to deal with the better, in his opinion. And if the prestigious job of valet in the end turned out to be little more than a glorified sitting job, he would take that in stride.

Gilbert did not offer his hand when they returned to the dark stairwell, and Ludwig had to carefully pick his way down each step, his breath in his throat. They finally reached the landing and it took everything Ludwig had to not rush out into the hallway and away from the potential death traps. He followed Gilbert through another door and suddenly found himself in the manor proper. Gilbert seemed unfazed by the abrupt transition and made his way down yet another corridor and into a sitting room, where he threw himself down on a chaise lounge, the dust from his pants puffing up in a small cloud.

“This is my study,” the boy said in a bored tone of voice, gesturing to the small room. The walls were lined with books, but it looked slightly neater than his room with no large stacks of tomes anywhere to be seen. Ludwig remained standing, the extravagant surroundings already starting to seem commonplace when yesterday they had stunned him. If he were alone he would have been admiring the crown moldings and perhaps it would be a bit more impressive, but he was focused on Gilbert and wondering just how livid the maids were going to be.

“It’s lovely,” Ludwig said, resting the young lord’s coat over the back of the chaise.

Gilbert glanced at him and then let out a heavy and dramatic sigh.

“Oh for heaven’s sake, sit, farmhand. You hovering around like an Aryan vulture is unnerving.”

Ludwig reluctantly sat, the knowledge that he was breaking one of Kirkland’s strict rules (“no sitting in the presence of the family”) making him on edge. If any of the other staff were to come in and see him word would surely get to Kirkland. And either Gilbert could read his mind or he was just very good at picking up on signals for a moment later he said a bit snappishly, “Sit still, farmhand. If you think that Kirkland has any sort of influence over me or my word then you are even more of a fool than I gave you credit for. You will keep me company until I dismiss you, and until then I will not permit your attention to wander.”

“…You wish for my undivided attention for every second I am with you?” Ludwig asked incredulously, the boy’s selfishness making him forget momentarily his mild anxiety.

“Yes,” Gilbert said, his eyes slipping shut. “Unless I am napping.”

Ludwig’s eye twitched. “You cannot dictate what I am to think,” he said sharply. “There is no being in this world or any other that I trust and respect enough to allow them to rule my thoughts.”

“Are you the son of a preacher?” Gilbert groaned, pressing a pillow against his face. “I’m interesting enough, I believe, to make it relatively pleasant for you. And while it is true I cannot actually control what you’re thinking I can ask that you at least pretend to focus on me.” He felt silent for a moment and then Ludwig caught a sliver of red peering at him from underneath the embroidered pillow before Gilbert spoke again, his voice much less sure of itself than before.

“Is it… is it really such an arduous task to be with me?” he asked, each word quieter than the one preceding it.

The hurt in the boy’s voice that he was obviously trying so gamely to hide made a thin strand of guilt tug at Ludwig’s heart. He folded his hands in his lap as he thought, wanting to choose his words carefully.

“You must understand, my lo—Gilbert, that I only know you so far as a thorn in my side,” he said slowly. “You are confusing and difficult to read and predict, and as a man who dislikes surprises more than anything your entire existence puts me on edge.” He saw the boy’s expression twist into one of shock and anger and he quickly added, “This does not mean that it does not have the potential to change. You are obviously bright and… and lonely. If I may be so bold as to—”

“You may not,” Gilbert said in a childish voice, pushing himself up as his voice rose in volume, his cheeks an unattractive ruddy color. “I am a thorn in your side, despite the fact that I have been nothing but permissive of your insolence and forwardness and even kind enough to attempt to introduce you to the manor and give you guidance but instead you choose to be haughty and distant and snide when I saw so much potential in you to be interesting and challenging and –”

“Are you lonely?” Ludwig interrupted, cutting over Gilbert’s words as the boy started to practically vibrate with anger. “It is a simple question, one that does not require anything more than a yes or a no.”

The young lord opened and closed his mouth a few times like a fish gasping for air before he settled down on the chaise lounge again, a guarded look on his face.

“What are the chances of me being mocked if I were to admit to that,” he muttered. “Not that it is any of your business.”

“If you are going to insist that I keep you constant company, then your mental state is most certainly my business,” Ludwig said tiredly, sitting back and crossing his arms over his chest. “I did not especially enjoy yesterday’s temper tantrum and I can assure you that you do not want to see me when I am honestly upset. So I think if you are completely serious about me acting less in the capacity of a traditional valet and more in the capacity of…” He searched for a word that was not ‘sitter.’ “…In the capacity of a steward or a batman or a… slightly subservient companion… then I am going to have to ask that you respect me enough to not consider me a toy. I will not be able to stand your company for long if you constantly mock and abuse me. No man in his right mind would.”

A painful silence settled over the room, disrupting the few dust motes that still clung stubbornly to the upper reaches of the bookshelves. The rest of the house was still as the grave, and in that moment Ludwig felt a painful sort of intimacy take hold of the threads of conversation lingering in the air. He realized, with an unpleasant and nervous lurch of his stomach, that he had in essence demanded that the young lord treat him as nearly an equal, and that he, shockingly, felt completely entitled to be treated as such. The boy was so obviously lonely with the eager way he had jumped at the chance to show him around, and the hostile way he reacted whenever Ludwig headed towards a door was pathetically obvious in retrospect. And in the utter silence of the grand house, Ludwig understood at once the source of isolation. What unemployed aristocratic teenager would wake up before five of their own free will to show a servant around the castle unless they had quite literally no other source of companionship.

Ludwig risked a glance at the boy and was mildly alarmed to see a look of frustration and anger on his face. Gilbert’s knuckles were white as he clutched a pillow to his chest, but slowly his grip loosened and his expression relaxed.

“You are a preacher’s son,” the young lord muttered, lying down and tossing the pillow up into the air, catching it when it fell. “You seem incapable of mere speech. Everything is a loud lesson in morality with you.”

“I hardly think that’s the case,” Ludwig said quietly, quickly catching the pillow when it was thrown to him. Or at him. He couldn’t be sure.

“And argumentative,” Gilbert shot back, gesturing for Ludwig to return the pillow. Ludwig gently tossed it back in a graceful arch and Gilbert caught it before sitting up once more.

“Very well, farmhand,” he said brusquely. “I accept your terms, on the condition that we keep this farce of an understanding hush hush around Papa and Kirkland. I can’t imagine either of them would be too pleased if they found out I was abandoning every last pretenses of my class to be chummy with a servant. Titles are one thing. Admissions of emotional faults are another beast altogether.”

“You may rest assured that I have no intention of telling anyone anything, and I would be ever so grateful if you would stop assuming I have inclinations to share any aspect of my life with anyone. Ever,” Ludwig said wearily, rubbing at his temples. “And I do have a name, you know. Even servants are deserving of a title that is not based upon a relic of their personal identity.”

The pillow landed in his lap again and he glanced up in time to see Gilbert staring at him with a calculating look in his eye before the boy quickly smiled.

“Yes, yes. Always with the dramatics, Ludwig,” Gilbert sighed, stretching out on the chaise lounge again and humming under his breath. “Really, it’s almost worth risking your wrath just to see you get all riled up again. Your cheeks turn a most unattractive pink. Clashes horribly with your hair…”

Gilbert let out an undignified squawk when the pillow landed directly on his face, and he quickly sat up, glaring at Ludwig and rubbing at his nose.

“And this is the thanks I get?” he snapped, his red eyes narrowing even more when Ludwig merely held up his hands, a look of contrition on his face.

“I was aiming for your stomach. Honestly.”

Gilbert rubbed his pointy nose for a moment longer, and Ludwig was briefly reminded of an injured weasel before the pillow predictably came flying at his face. He forced himself not to catch it, and bore the brunt of the impact with a stoic stiff upper lip.

Gilbert’s triumphant laughter and merciless teasing as he feigned injury surprisingly softened the blow. As did the sound of his Christian name, and the look of shy hesitation and happiness on the young lord’s face every time before he said it.

Curious.


	10. (A)dvent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> five points to hufflepuff.
> 
> i really have nothing else to say about this chapter except that gilbert is kind of a graverobber. it’s not looking good.
> 
> also i apologize for posting this so late. by the time i finished my one read through it was four in the morning, so i opted for the queue.

During the first week at the manor, Ludwig was forced into a routine. Squished and prodded to fit the mold and the will of his young charge. Gilbert had an insatiable appetite for attention, and on more than one occasion Ludwig woke up to the sound of the young lord attempting to pick the lock on his door to get him to come steal something from the kitchens with him or find the special rock he’d thrown into the canal during a temper tantrum and needed to retrieve it right then or he would implode with sadness or climb up to the roof to look at how much the baby birds had grown.  
Ludwig had not spent hardly any time with the staff. Every meal he sat down to was inevitably interrupted by the ringing of Gilbert’s bell. Despite his newness as a valet, however, there was none of the outward animosity he had expected from the rest of the staff. On the contrary, the maids and footmen seemed to pity him, and would cast sympathetic glances his way every time the bell chimed. The atmosphere was not one that could be called welcoming by any means, but Kirkland ensured they were all polite and Mrs. Peeters made sure they were all kind and while it was hardly the family Ludwig had heard staff members often became, it was tolerable, and that was a far cry better than what he had anticipated.

The earl had been away on business but was finally returning to the manor that evening, and the whole house was bustling with a frantic energy as staff and house members alike prepared for his arrival. Ludwig had been told in no uncertain terms to stay out of the way of everyone, since he was new and had absolutely no idea how to go about putting on a presentable homecoming. Ludwig was more than happy to stick to the sidelines and watch the proceedings, acting as a moveable rack from which to hang buckets of paint or garlands or whatever else the staff needed when he was asked.

One of the footmen, a surprisingly amiable former Australian who had wormed his way into the earl’s good graces during one of his trips there, was wrapping a garland of hydrangeas around Ludwig’s arms to check the blossoms. Just when he had finished, Ludwig heard a familiar voice coming from down the hall.

“Oh my goodness. Don’t we look fancy today.”

Ludwig turned to shoot the boy a glare, but all he said was a polite, “Good day, sir.”

Gilbert stopped in front of him, a look of pure amused bliss on his face as he studied the older man.

“Good day, farmhand. I must say you seem to be enjoying yourself more than one should. No allergies, I take it.”

“He’s been a wonderful help, my lord. There aren’t many tall enough to help hang the decorations to Mrs. Peeters’ satisfaction,” the Australian chimed in.

Gilbert’s eyebrow rose and he fiddled with his collar, the look of devilish glee never leaving his face.

“How wonderful to hear that, Lee, but I am afraid I must steal him away once more. As you can see I am woefully underdressed for the occasion and it is about time my valet started acting like one.”

Lee looked pained and opened his mouth to plead his case but Gilbert held up a hand. “I will fetch the gardener for you. Surely we can find a footstool or some sort of ladder he can stand on to make himself feel momentarily vertically superior.” The boy reached out and tugged on Ludwig’s sleeve, and after a bit of struggling with the flowers Ludwig was finally detangled. He passed off the garlands to Lee with a mumbled apology, but the other man simply gave him a sympathetic smile and said quietly, “Honestly, better you than me. I don’t know how you stand it.”

Luckily Gilbert was preoccupied with Kirkland (who was lecturing him politely on the value of proper dress) and so he didn’t hear, and all Ludwig did was nod to feign agreement before turning to head to the boy’s side. If he were being truthful, he did not mind spending so much time with the young lord. While Gilbert was frustrating, selfish, spoiled, occasionally unkind and ruthless and beyond annoying when one of his tantrums took hold of him, there were other times (usually when he was quiet, tired, or subdued) when he was genuinely entertaining, and the brief flashes of kindness Ludwig caught glimpses of were enough to offset his horrible temper and penchant for snide comments.

Most of the time.

Gilbert glanced up at Ludwig when he moved to his side, a look of gratitude on his face that made Ludwig smile slightly in return. Kirkland was still lecturing but Gilbert at last held up a hand and pointed to Ludwig.

“Here, sir, is the target of your grievances. My valet is clearly inferior and must be trained even more to ensure that the proper level of decorum is reached.”

Ludwig fought not to blanch under the stern, disapproving gaze Kirkland shot his way, but finally the older man nodded and said evenly, “I expect you in full dress at no later than five. Your father’s train will be arriving at the station at half past four, and we must be ready for a potential early arrival.”

Gilbert gave a mock salute and then brushed past Kirkland, heading down a hallway towards the main grand staircase that led to the wings of the manor. After spending a week in and out of the house proper and the servant’s quarters, Ludwig felt a bit more comfortable with his surroundings, but only just. Gilbert and the cousins were housed in the west wing, while the earl and his wife’s quarters were in the east. Any guests that came were also situated in the east. The west wing was the one in more need of care. Its beautiful carpets and hardwood floors were cleaned every day as the children brought entire plantations worth of mud in with them from their playing outdoors, and the doorjambs as well showed the wear and tear of years of banging and childish fights that led inevitably to one child sequestering itself from another.

Ludwig had finally met the third cousin, a quiet, prudish little boy by the name of Roderich several days prior, and the boy’s sternness was almost charming, but Ludwig had the distinct feeling that his personality would not age well. The other male cousin, Vash, was quiet in a surly way that Ludwig found rather disagreeable, but the boy tended to keep to himself or hang about Roderich when the older boy would play piano or tend to his lessons, and so Ludwig thankfully did not have to deal with him either. Eliza, the young girl who had helped him on his first day, was the cousin closest to Gilbert, and on occasion the earl’s son had allowed her to sit with them while Gilbert read books and Ludwig sat mending whatever new wound the boy had inflicted upon his clothes. She was by far the most charming of the children. While Gilbert was skillful at faking sincerity and poise she seemed to take genuine delight both in horrifying the staff by playing outside with her male cousins and in charming any and all guests who came to visit the manor, as well as her aunt and uncle.

All three of the cousins seemed to regard him as a curio, and on several occasions he had caught them peeking into Gilbert’s room when he and the earl’s son would be arguing over which book Gilbert ought to read next or the state of political affairs in India or the value of the burgeoning American films. Most of their private conversation, in fact, was made of arguments and little more. Good natured arguments, but disagreements nonetheless. In the privacy of Gilbert’s room, where they could dispense what Gilbert called ‘necessary unpleasantries,’ their personalities tended to clash rather violently, although somehow, perhaps through the miracle of Gilbert’s insatiable charm (his words once more), their skirmishes usually ended on common ground. Gilbert had been delighted to find that Ludwig was an avid reader, and so quite often it was their discussions of literature that lead to headbutting and childish name calling (in Gilbert’s case) and stony silences (Ludwig’s).

Gilbert rounded the corner into the west wing and Ludwig hurried to catch up with him, falling easily into stride next to the young lord. Now that they had left the company of others, Gilbert was chewing neurotically on a fingernail and the grinding noise was quickly driving Ludwig mad.

He reached out to lightly flick the back of Gilbert’s hand, and the young lord stopped immediately, giving the older man a surly look.

“I could have you dismissed for that, you know,” he muttered, but his voice lacked any emotion.

“I would make the argument that I am simply trying to save your teeth and my mental health from developing cracks,” Ludwig said, giving Gilbert a sideways glance. He fell silent for a moment and then offered, “If there is something on your mind –”

“It’s nothing,” Gilbert said sharply, turning into his room. Ludwig rolled his eyes ever so slightly but followed Gilbert inside, shutting the door behind him. He headed over to the wardrobe and began picking out a clean suit. Thankfully the maids color coordinated everything so he did not have to strain himself trying to ensure that things matched. He heard Gilbert fall down in his pile of pillows and knew better than to bother him again for the time being. He took his time laying out the young lord’s clothes, double checking the stitching for any rips or tears. When he finally risked a glance over towards the fireplace, he was unsurprised to see Gilbert curled up on his side with a pillow over his head.

Ludwig sighed and moved to gently prod the younger man’s foot with his own.

“Gilbert. It is already well past half three and I do not want to risk Kirkland’s wrath. Up with you.”

Gilbert let out a little whine and pulled his foot away before glaring up at Ludwig through a crack in the pillows. Ludwig evenly caught the ruby gaze and raised an eyebrow, eliciting another whining noise from the young lord.

“You are cruel. Utterly cruel,” he mumbled.

“I don’t care. Get up or I will pick you up. You know I can do it. Don’t test me.”

Gilbert muttered something else no doubt unsavory under his breath and finally stood, shuffling over to the bed to begin getting dressed. Ludwig busied himself with fixing the pillows, not moving to Gilbert’s side until he was called for.

He heard Gilbert sigh again before saying dully, “Ludwig this tie is not obeying me. Come do your job.”

Ludwig moved to stand in front of Gilbert, leaning over slightly so he could better see what he was doing.

“I was not aware it was part of my job description to enforce the obedience of fabric to your will.”

“Every wish of mine is part of your job description, Ludwig, and I am growing tired of having this conversation.”

Gilbert’s voice was bereft of the usual teasing, and Ludwig glanced up at him, a slightly concerned look on his face. Whenever Gilbert wasn’t teasing him or mocking him or acting generally like the precocious brat he was, that sent up alarm bells. It usually meant a tantrum was soon to come.

“…Are you sure you’re quite all right?” Ludwig asked carefully, bracing himself to flee at a moment’s notice. But the look the earl’s son gave him was not the narrow eyed, ready to throw a book into the fire just to spite the author anger Ludwig had come to associate with that side of Gilbert he would rather remain a mystery. Instead the young man looked tired. Incredibly tired and far older than sixteen.

Gilbert opened his mouth but then closed it again, his eyes nervously darting to stare at the door as though for confirmation of something before he finally said, “Papa is coming home.”

“…Yes, I am aware of that,” Ludwig said, unable to keep his voice from sounding a bit sardonic.

Gilbert made a frustrated noise and hit Ludwig’s shoulder, pushing the man back slightly.

“Your smart comments are not at all cute, farmhand,” he muttered, tugging on a lock of Ludwig’s hair, eliciting a little glare from the older man that he pointedly ignored. “Kirkland always briefs Papa on what he has missed when he has been away, and listening to a list of my failures one after the other tends to – well it would sound terrible regardless of who it was. No one’s bad deeds listed clinically like that can sound good, you know. But Papa takes it too hard and blames himself for being away and blames my mother for coddling me and blames Eliza and Vash and Roderich for not keeping me occupied and out of trouble and then when he is done chiding them we have dinner and they all glare at me for the duration and then after dinner he talks to me finally and it’s… it’s awful.”

Gilbert suddenly slumped forward, resting his chin on Ludwig’s shoulder, who had to remain uncomfortably hunched over so as not to upset the younger man. Ludwig was not sure what proper protocol was, having never had the misfortune of being hugged before, but after a bit he awkwardly patted the young lord’s back.

Gilbert grunted quietly and pushed himself away to give Ludwig a halfhearted glare.

“You are very bad at this, you know,” he muttered sourly. “Eliza would be petting my hair and telling me no one is perfect by now. And she is the most callous individual I have ever met. Next to you now, I suppose. Congratulations are in order.”

“Well I am thankfully not a thirteen year old girl – there is no good way to end that sentence,” Ludwig muttered, straightening up and quickly fixing Gilbert’s tie before the young lord tried to use him as a chin stand again.

The muttered comment elicited a burst of surprised laughter from Gilbert, who gave him a weary smile and a delicate pat to the head.

“True, true. And perhaps you have different ways of showing your empathy,” Gilbert said, sounding a good deal more cheerful than he had a moment ago. He flounced over to his wardrobe and pulled it open so he could inspect himself in the mirror. Ludwig brought the young lord’s suit coat over to him and helped him slip it on before grabbing the linens brush.

“I must say, you have gotten remarkably good at this during your brief stint here,” Gilbert said absently, still examining himself in the mirror. “Much better than I had anticipated. I half expected you to be so turned around you would be attempting to sheer me like a sheep or whatever it is you do.”

Ludwig gave the young lord’s head a good-natured hit with the bristles of the brush, ignoring the whining that followed. “Thankfully I can tell the difference between a bratty child and livestock,” he muttered, smoothing his hands over Gilbert’s shoulders to do one last check of the coat’s fit.

“I’m not a child,” Gilbert said petulantly, tilting his head back to glare up at Ludwig. “I will be seventeen in a week and a half, you know. No one in their right mind would consider me a child.”

“Apologies. A bratty teen aged boy, then,” Ludwig said evenly, chuckling quietly when Gilbert tried to swipe at him and missed. The young lord wiggled out of his grip and fixed him with a steely glare, but the grin playing around his lips betrayed him.

“You are terrifying when you laugh, I hope you know,” Gilbert said lightly, straightening his collar one last time. “You should probably not laugh around anyone else. They would grow frightened and burn you at the stake for being possessed. It isn’t a risk worth taking.”

“So you are to be the only victim of my laughter, am I understanding that correctly?” Ludwig asked, playing along as he fetched Gilbert’s shoes and sat down to give them a quick polish. Gilbert sat down on the bed, bouncing slightly until Ludwig gave him a warning look and he fell still.

“Something like that, yes.”

Gilbert fell quiet then, and Ludwig was free to focus on his work. He could distantly hear the other children being forced to get ready, and from the sound of it Vash was resisting gamely.

Shoes polished, Ludwig stood and moved to kneel in front of Gilbert. He glanced up at the young lord, a mordant look on his face.

“Are you honestly going to make me do this again.”

Gilbert merely smiled and wiggled his toes.

With a heavy sigh Ludwig slid Gilbert’s shoes on for him and tied the laces, a grimace on his face when Gilbert patted his head, the thin fingers mussing his hair.

“Oh Ludwig, Ludwig… you really do take things to heart. How like a gullible peasant.”

Ludwig halfheartedly swatted Gilbert’s hand away, knowing that the more he resisted the clinger Gilbert would become.

“Oh Gilbert, Gilbert, you really do not act your age. How like an aristocrat,” he parroted back, eliciting another burst of laughter from the young man.

“Touché,” Gilbert said amicably, tugging Ludwig’s hair to force the man to tilt his head back. Ludwig went a bit cross-eyed as Gilbert’s prodded the tip of his nose, and with a little scowl he pulled away, much to the young lord’s delight. Gilbert laughed again and hopped off the bed as he said, “Your stock must not be used to touch. I thought that was more a stereotype of the upper classes. Cold and standoffish people that we are.”

“It is a stereotype of anyone who does not appreciate a finger so near their eye,” Ludwig grumbled, pushing himself up and straightening out his suit. He could hear the unmistakable footfalls of Kirkland storming down the halls, and a moment later the door to Gilbert’s room was opened and the butler stepped inside.

“Your presence is required in the drawing room, my lord,” the man said, not sparing Ludwig a glance.

Gilbert let out a heavy sigh. “Very well, Kirkland. If I must.”

“You must,” the man said smoothly. “I expect you downstairs in five minutes time, my lord. Your father is on his way.” With that, Kirkland stepped out, closing the door almost silently behind him.

The moment he was gone Gilbert sighed dramatically and made to throw himself into the pile of pillows but Ludwig’s warning voice stopped him.

“Gilbert. I am not helping you get changed into a non-wrinkled suit.”

Gilbert sulked but pushed himself to his feet and said dramatically, “Fine. It’s hard to tell who is the servant and who is the master here. You are easily the most demanding valet I have ever had.”

“I am the only valet you have ever had who lasted longer than five days,” Ludwig muttered, moving forward with a comb to quickly run it through Gilbert’s hair. The young man squirmed and hissed like a wild cat when the teeth caught a little snarl, and he gave Ludwig a piteous look that the man ignored.

“You’re so rough,” Gilbert sniffed, still trying for dramatics. Ludwig merely nodded in response, finally stepping back once Gilbert looked presentable. He gently pushed against his lower back, ushering him towards the door. Gilbert dragged his feet, still grumbling under his breath before he suddenly hopped forward and away from Ludwig’s touch.

“I could still have you dismissed for that,” he said airily, opening the door before glancing at Ludwig over his shoulder. “The most surly valet this manor has ever seen. And also the most handsy.”

“During my brief stay here I have found it is far more efficient to give you a physical nudge in the right direction rather than waste my time and breath attempting to cajole you,” Ludwig deadpanned, although his cheeks were lightly flushed. It was easier to bodily maneuver the smaller man around than to ask him to hold out his arms or stand still or leave when he only had a few minutes until Kirkland would come looking for him. But something about the way Gilbert had phrased it was disturbing.

He quickly fixed the Gilbert’s collar one last time to cover his embarrassment before Gilbert said in an amused voice, “There is only so straight a piece of cloth can get, my good man.”

Ludwig stepped back, scowling, but still Gilbert didn’t move. Usually before dinner Gilbert would order him to stay in his room, or if heaven forbid Ludwig were lucky enough to be eating downstairs he would be summoned the moment dinner was over for the members of the house.

But this time the order never came.

“…Come downstairs,” Gilbert said quietly, suddenly subdued. He reached out to tug on Ludwig’s sleeve again. “You can wait in that side room where the footmen lurk. If Kirkland tries to send you away you can just tell him that it’s a request from me.”

Ludwig could only nod, unsure how else to respond. Gilbert gave him a small smile and tugged him out into the hallway before letting go. They walked in silence down to the dining room, and Ludwig could Lady Horschhorn’s laughter and the giggling from Gilbert’s cousins.

Gilbert stopped in front of the doors, his shoulders far too rigid to be natural.

Ludwig stood beside Gilbert, watching him carefully out of the corner of his eye. He distantly heard the front door open, and Kirkland’s reedy voice say, “Welcome home, my lord.”

Gilbert began to tremble, and after a moment Ludwig cautiously rested his hand on the young lord’s shoulder. The younger man quickly looked up at him, his red eyes wide and a look of humiliation and apprehension on his face, but he quickly schooled his expression into a weak smile.

“S-See, farmhand? You are far too hands-on. Maybe I should stop calling you by your prior profession. It’s probably only exacerbating the situation.”

Ludwig gave Gilbert an unimpressed look but then said quietly, “I will be in the servant’s waiting room. If that allows you some small amount of mental comfort.”

Gilbert blinked in surprise and stared up at Ludwig for a moment longer before quickly looking away, the tips of his ears pink.

“Surprisingly it does not mean much knowing that you are there because you have been ordered to do so,” he mumbled, eyes still fixed on the floor.

Ludwig let out a tired sigh and pulled his hand away.

“Then un-order me and I will stage an effective and peaceful rebellion,” he said as patiently as he could, smiling very slightly when his snide remark elicited a laugh from the younger man.

Gilbert shook his head and stood up straight once more, the smile still on his face as he said elegantly, “Very well. You are not to wait in the servant’s room off the dining hall, and if you do so it will be clearly of your own volition. Is that understood?”

“Implicitly,” Ludwig said, his lips twitching slightly into the beginnings of a returned smile. The look quickly faded as he registered footsteps coming down the hall, and with one last glance at Gilbert he hurried to the servant’s room, ignoring the curious glances of the two footmen there, ready to wait on the family.

Ludwig stood in the corner, absently listening to the idle chatter of the family through the surprisingly thin walls. He reasoned they either trusted their staff implicitly or they simply had never been out of the dining room proper. His money was on the latter.

The room on the other side of the wall fell silent as a pair of doors opened, and a moment later a high pitched squeal (Eliza, no doubt) resounded through the air. Her cries of ‘Uncle Wolfy’ nearly drowned out the rest of the Horschhorns, but among the voices Ludwig heard a very subdued, “Hello, Papa,” and a happily returned, “How formal of you, Gilbert. Save for that nickname. You’re getting a little old for that.”

Ludwig could practically hear the embarrassment in Gilbert’s voice as he stammered back a reply that was quickly overpowered by Roderich complaining about some tree on the far side of the manor grounds.

The family soon settled down to dinner, and it was everything Ludwig could do to stay out of the way of the footmen, the maids, and Kirkland. He had always been sequestered in Gilbert’s room and Kirkland’s little book hadn’t detailed anything about the proceedings for mealtime. Course after course went through the swinging double doors, and every so often Ludwig caught a glimpse of the family inside. Gilbert must have been seated farther down the table on the closer side to the servant’s room. Ludwig could not see him at all. For whatever reason, that made him nervous, and he slowly migrated to the other side of the servant’s room until he finally caught a glimpse of the young lord as one of the footmen brought out the after dinner wine. Gilbert was staring at his plate, which looked nearly untouched. Ludwig scowled and did his best to glare at the young lord through the swinging doors. He knew he had poor eating habits, and now he had proof. Of sorts.

“My, my. Don’t you look scary.”

Ludwig jumped at the voice and turned to face whoever it was. The head housekeeper smiled up at him, her slightly graying hair still tied neatly back with a red ribbon.

“Might I ask what you are doing here, Mr. Schmidt? Valets are not required to help with dinner service unless we are short staffed.”

“I am aware of that. Ma’am,” Ludwig said, forgetting for a moment to add the polite address. He was falling out of practice from being around Gilbert so much. “And I am here at the request of Lord Gilbert. He asked specifically that I wait here.”

Mrs. Peeters made a soft noise of understanding and moved past Ludwig to peer through the swinging doors.

“Did he now. How curious,” she said lightly, the edge of her long skirts sweeping against the floor as she walked back towards Ludwig. “He has never asked anyone to do that before, not in recent memory. He must have either taken a shining to you or loathes you. He has curious ways of punishing people. It is all rather alarming if one dwells on it.”

She laughed brightly, but Ludwig remained stone faced, a small set of teeth latching on to his confidence.

“With all due respect, ma’am, he has given me little reason to doubt that his inclinations lean towards the former,” he said quietly, moving out of the way of the footmen once more. Dinner was nearly over and places were being cleared for dessert, and one of the footmen (Lee – he recognized the bandage on his nose) was muttering under his breath about wasted food as he whisked away one of the plates.

“And let us hope that is the case,” Mrs. Peeters said, ignoring the flurry of activity around her. “He is a terribly good actor, and there is not a one in this house who has not fallen for a ploy of his. Not to alarm you, Mr. Schmidt. From what I have seen you appear to have him surprisingly under control, for the time being, and I wish you luck in the coming months.”

A troubled look crossed her face and she let out a little breath.

“I suspect that his Lordship will be implementing some changes very soon, and Lord Gilbert will no doubt need a bit of guidance. As staff, it is our duty to provide whatever practical support we can. I hope you are not remiss in your care of him as valet.”

“No, ma’am,” Ludwig said, risking another glance into the dining room, but the family had already retired elsewhere.

“Very good. I am expecting nothing but positive things from you, Mr. Schmidt, as a man who owes every bit of his good fortune to this family.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Ludwig shifted on his feet, wondering how long Gilbert would be. He didn’t relish staying in the way of the rest of the staff trying to work, and Mrs. Peeters’ piercing green gaze was starting to get to him. Thankfully a moment later Kirkland called her away, and she left with a little smile.

Ludwig leaned against the wall and watched the staff move seamlessly from one room to the other, carrying trays and bottles and glasses and talking good-naturedly amongst themselves. They did not spare Ludwig so much as a glance, and he was left alone, waiting like a pathetic dog for its master’s next command.

As it turned out, however, he did not have long to wait.

The doors on the far end of the servant’s room slowly opened, and a moment later Gilbert crept inside. Most of the staff had already left, and those that remained cast him anxious looks and quickly made themselves scarce.

Ludwig pushed himself away from the wall and hid his expression of relief. He hadn’t much cared for being so out in the open with near strangers pressing in on him and feeling more and more out of place with every passing second.

Gilbert offered him a small smile and then said softly, “I caught a glimpse of Peeters grilling you. I thought it best that I come to your rescue right away.”

“How kind of you to save me from my middle aged tormentor,” Ludwig murmured back, quirking an eyebrow in mild amusement.

Gilbert hid a laugh behind his hand and gestured for Ludwig to follow him.

Ludwig let out a sigh of relief once they were out of the cramped room, and moved to pull even with Gilbert once more. The young lord seemed oddly drained, but before Ludwig could question him Gilbert said absently, “Papa for once spared me the lecture. Kirkland either has yet to sink his limey claws into him or he has been too frazzled to make up a report. Either way, I can’t pretend to be ungrateful. I suspect at some point he will wish to talk to you – new hire that you are – but until then we can go about our business as usual, thankfully.”

His eye twitched and then he muttered, “But the day after next we are to host a small gathering for the guests Papa invited to stay for a few days. The whole house is sure to be madness and I doubt we will be able to escape the clutches of mingling.”

“Am I expected to be there?” Ludwig asked in surprise, making a slight face. Gilbert must have caught his expression for he said very indignantly, “You aren’t very well leaving me alone with them! I explicitly forbid it. You will be the silent and intimidating shadow that saves me from any unwanted conversation.”

Ludwig let out a heavy sigh and muttered, “Very well,” resigning himself to his fate.

They walked in silence for a moment longer, Gilbert’s eyes darting back and forth across the empty hallways before he suddenly reached out to twist his long fingers in Ludwig’s sleeve.

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” he said, his voice so soft Ludwig barely caught the words. “Being an adult is… is cold. It’s so cold and distant and you’re forced to stay here where everything is full of details that will never mend properly. And you’re too tall to climb trees and if you’re caught on the roof there is no sympathy for baby birds. It’s cruel and lonely and I hate everything about it.”

Ludwig momentarily wished he were anywhere else – mental crises were not his forte – but after a moment he gently swung the arm Gilbert was clinging to, knocking shoulders with the young lord.

“There are very few who enjoy it. Myself included,” he said, keeping his voice low as well for fear of being heard. “Growing up is horrid. It hinges upon knowing a great deal too much in too short a time, and lacking the ability to do anything but succumb to that once forbidden knowledge. That things end and fall apart, that there is some piece of you that men and God regard as sin when before you were blameless.”

Gilbert gave him a bland look but then looked away, his fingers tightening in Ludwig’s jacket.

“You’re useless,” he muttered, but his words lacked venom. “Poetry and nothing more, and you aren’t even good at that.”

“My apologies,” Ludwig said quietly, feeling stupid and vain in front of the simple words.

“It’s more than anyone else has offered.”

Gilbert shrugged and slowly let go of Ludwig’s sleeve. He stopped in front of his bedroom door, falling silent for a long moment before he said, “Would you like to come in and read? Just for a bit. Lord knows you could use some help composing decent prose. I’m sure I can scrounge up something for you to use as a template during future heart to hearts.”

Ludwig raised an eyebrow, wanting to comment on Gilbert’s own ineloquence, but after a moment nodded.

“Just for a bit,” he repeated quietly. Gilbert’s face lit up and he quickly tugged Ludwig inside, shutting the door behind them.

Down the hall, a pair of blue eyes stared curiously at the spot where the two had been, but a moment later they too disappeared into one of the rooms, leaving the corridor empty.


	11. Gr(a)vity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh man. things are progressing finally. hopefully.
> 
> actually i’m probably just deluding myself.
> 
> thanks so much to everyone for your reviews and comments. i really appreciate them all and i’m really sorry i can’t respond to each one individually.

The guests, as it turned out, were Gilbert’s extended family; Eliza’s parents, who were returning from their summer estate in the south of France, as well as Gilbert’s grandparents and several other distant relations that Ludwig had already forgotten. Apparently their visit was to be a surprise, but when Eliza nagged her uncle enough he finally caved and told her. The next half hour was filled with excited shrieking and running around and even Gilbert got dragged into it. He tried to make a grab for Ludwig as his cousin whipped him around the room, but Ludwig carefully stepped out of the way and successfully avoided all frivolity. He paid for his ‘betrayal’ later when Gilbert locked him in the parlor with Roderich and forced him to sit through hours of surprisingly horrendous piano playing. The classical composers were not kind to Roderich, apparently, and the boy was a frustrated, teary mess by the time his rehearsal was over. Ludwig had to deal with that catastrophe and was beginning to wonder if the job of valet was truly more akin to that of a nanny like he’d originally thought.

The guests were also, as it turned out, very, very late.  
The journey across the channel had taken far longer than anticipated, and so it was decided that they would postpone their visit to coincide with Gilbert’s birthday, to spare the staff the pressure of preparing two large celebrations so close together. The staff was relieved. Gilbert was decidedly not.

In fact, the closer to his birthday it became, the more withdrawn the young lord turned. He spent the majority of his time in the small study that had been allotted to him, his nose buried in books, and he refused all offers of interaction. He still called for Ludwig to keep him company every day, but unlike usual there were no plans for pranks that Ludwig would have to politely dismantle or pleas for conversation or walks down to the forest or raiding parties to the kitchens. Ludwig had at first relished the silence, but after the fourth day or so he began to feel the first stings of unease.

During the past week he had noticed a slight change in the young lord’s demeanor. Their understanding had certainly fueled it, but Gilbert had increased the amount of time he spent with Ludwig by a drastic amount, and as the days passed more and more of his peevish and bratty side was buried by good-natured mischief and activities that took up the majority of the afternoon after Gilbert’s studies were finished. Ludwig had been irritated at first, but that was before they had reached their understanding. Now he tolerated Gilbert’s antics because doing so was guaranteed to elicit a burst of laughter from Gilbert and animated tellings and retellings of the incidents. His eyes would light up and his spindly hands would gesture wildly and he looked the picture of a mad scientist rejoicing over his creation. It was hard to remain angry in the face of such unabashed amusement.

So Ludwig put up with the early morning wake ups, the mismatched and sabotaged wardrobes, the sugar in the salt shaker, the tied shoe laces and the late night excursions to the edge of the manor grounds. At first he had been a reluctant participant, and then an even more reluctant target, but soon he grew used to it and even shot back with a few tricks of his own. Gilbert had initially found the peppered tie to not be at all amusing, and Ludwig had honestly feared for his life for a split second before the young lord had burst into a horrifying combination of raucous laughter and rib-splitting sneezes that had ended in the decimation of several quality handkerchiefs (including Ludwig’s own which Gilbert said he would frame as a memento of when his ‘student’ had graduated) and promises of revenge.

But Gilbert’s revenge had yet to arrive.

The pranks had stopped only a few days ago, around when Gilbert had fallen into his melancholy. And it was only then, after days of the absence of early mornings and late nights that Ludwig realized truly how abnormal Gilbert was behaving. He had only been at the manor for a little over a month and yet by virtue of Gilbert insisting on his nearly constant presence had grown so acclimated to the young lord that the sudden change in routine and behavior was mildly alarming. Ludwig found himself hovering around Gilbert more than usual, checking on him in the mornings when no wake up call came for the trip up to the roof to watch the birds. He brought him food from the kitchens at night, and in the morning he retrieved the plates. Untouched.

Gilbert still called him, the bell in the servant’s dining room was never still, but the younger man was distant. Reserved in a way that made Ludwig feel oddly disconnected from the new everyday the young lord had made him build.

The pile of read books next to Gilbert’s chair grew alarmingly tall and unstable, and Ludwig waited, perched on the edge of his seat, ready to spring forward and push the younger man out of the way should they fall. Gilbert sat perfectly still, his knees drawn up to his chest and his pointed nose hidden behind the spine of another book. Ludwig had given up asking what he was reading. He never got a decent answer anyway.

The door to the study opened and Kirkland stepped inside.

“Good afternoon, my lord.”

Gilbert merely grunted in response.

“Charming.”

Kirkland fixed his gaze on Ludwig and gestured for him to stand.

“His Lordship would like a word with Ludwig.”

Gilbert looked up at that, a startled expression on his face before he cleared his throat and resumed reading.

“As long as he is promptly returned,” he muttered, to which Kirkland let out a very small sigh. “Yes, you won’t be apart from your shadow for long, you have my word.”

“He is far too bulky to be my shadow,” Gilbert muttered, but the tips of his ears, barely visible over the top of the book, were bright red. Had they been alone Ludwig would have gently teased him and most likely gotten a pillow thrown at him for his troubles, but Kirkland’s presence dictated proper decorum.

“Your guard dog, then, my lord,” Kirkland said, his voice betraying his slight amusement. “Ludwig, if you please.”

“Yes, sir.”

Ludwig stood and took a few steps towards the door, pausing by Gilbert for a moment to lean down and say quietly, “Are you sure you do not want anything to eat, Gi—my lord?”

Red eyes peered over the top of the book, catching his own for a moment before they were hastily averted.

“N-No, farmhand. Your fevered devotion to my health is starting to feel cloying,” he muttered, shooing Ludwig away.

Ludwig reluctantly stood, a worried frown on his face before he schooled his expression and followed Kirkland out into the hallway. They walked in silence for a good while and then Kirkland suddenly spoke.

“We are all rather shocked at how much Lord Gilbert is taken with you. I believe I am right to assume that the absence of skinned chickens in the maids’ beds and dried beans on the stairs and firecrackers in the toilets is thanks to your interference?”

“I have only provided him with a different target for his boredom, sir,” Ludwig said, grimacing as he remembered the unpleasant experience of waking up with a dead fish in his arms. Gilbert had insisted he had kissed it in his sleep. Ludwig was too disturbed to ask how exactly Gilbert would have obtained that knowledge.

But that was days ago. And Ludwig thought he would never admit it but if he woke up with a full school of salmon in his bed he would be the most relieved he had been all week.

“Well regardless, we appreciate it. Your ability to cope with Lord Gilbert is remarkable. His Lordship was at his wits end. None of the staff or the house thought that the boy would ever mature. His Lordship was ready to name a new heir but now things seem like they can progress in the initially desired direction.”

Ludwig did not even want to guess as to what that meant, and all he said was a quiet, “I see.”

Kirkland stopped in front of the earl’s study and reached out to pluck a speck of lint off of Ludwig’s suit.

“You have been here for over a month now, so I expect you to be fully versed in the decorum necessary to speak with the earl without further instruction.”

Ludwig stood a bit straighter at that and gave a sharp nod.

“Yes, sir.”

“Very good.”

Kirkland opened the door and stepped inside, announcing, “Ludwig is here, my Lord.”

“Wonderful. Send him in.”

Kirkland opened the door a bit wider and gestured for Ludwig to step inside. Ludwig braced himself and then walked into the earl’s study. It was surprisingly Spartan in decoration, although there were nearly three times as many books lining the walls as there were in Gilbert’s much smaller room. The earl was seated at a desk, papers strewn over the surface and ink stains on his fingers. He gave Ludwig a smile and then waved his hand towards Kirkland.

“Shut the door, Arthur.”

Kirkland gave a small bow and stepped out, quietly shutting the door behind him.

Ludwig stood still when the earl rose and moved closer to him, the smile still on his face.

“Please, sit, Ludwig,” he said gently, gesturing to a sofa. Ludwig immediately sat, his back ramrod straight. The earl laughed and sat across from him, one dark eyebrow raised in amusement above his blue eyes.

“Kirkland has been keeping me abreast of your transition here, but I find it best to speak personally with my employees.” The earl tilted his head to the side, looking remarkably like his son in that gesture. So much so that Ludwig was taken aback, and it must have showed on his face for the earl said, “Please, relax. I want you to be able to speak freely.”

“Yes, my lord,” Ludwig said, trying to keep from feeling penned in.

The door opened and one of the maids entered with a tray of tea and pastries. She offered Ludwig a small smile and set down the tray before quickly leaving the two men alone.

Ludwig frowned slightly as he tried to recall her name, and it wasn’t until the earl laughed again that he remembered where he was.

“A month is not enough to truly engrain Kirkland’s strident rules into your subconscious, I see,” the earl said, glancing at the tea. Ludwig’s cheeks flushed as he realized that he was most likely expected to serve the earl, but before he could move the older man had poured a cup and was handing it towards him.

Ludwig was sure his whole face was an unattractive crimson as he accepted the cup with a quiet, “Thank you, my lord. You are too kind to overlook my inattentiveness.”

“It is nothing, really. I know my son has an independent streak as wide as the channel when it comes to certain things. I’m assuming he does not let you perform half your designated tasks,” the earl said, pouring a cup for himself and dropping several sugar cubes in it before offering the sugar bowl to Ludwig, who took two (Gilbert was the one who had recommended sugar in tea, although he took his with at least six cubes because he had a horrible death wish).

“You would be right about that, my lord,” Ludwig said quietly, turning his cup in his hands, not wanting to take the first sip.

“It is strange, then, that Kirkland has reported to me that Gilbert rarely lets you out of his sight,” the earl said, raising an eyebrow. “I hope he is not too much of a pest. The other valets voiced complaints that he was far too… what was the word they used. Forthcoming, I believe. Emotionally. And blunt and callous to a stunning degree. Which I do not doubt in the slightest.” He let out a tired sigh and sipped at his tea, Ludwig soon followed suit, starting to feel slightly nervous about the direction the conversation was heading.

“I suppose what I truly want to know is if you feel you are being allowed to perform your job to a satisfactory degree,” the earl continued, setting down his cup and folding his hands in his lap. “I know you are a man who takes pride in his work, and I would not want to rob you of that simply because my son is… unconventional.”

Ludwig frowned slightly, unsure how to answer before he finally said slowly, “I… I have found that… my pride is not nearly as much of a pressing concern as it used to be, my lord. It used to consume me, but Lord Gilbert has a way of making anyone feel both incredibly foolish and brilliant in quick succession, and trying to keep up with him and ensure he remains focused takes all of my concentration. It is not the job I was expecting, but it is still one of value, I believe. And that is enough.”

He smiled weakly and took a sip of his tea. “I apologize. I don’t think I properly answered your Lordship’s question.”

The earl’s eyes widened slightly, but a small smile colored his features.

“You said enough,” he murmured. “The gossip of the staff does eventually reach our ears, and even if it did not I would have eventually noticed the change in my son’s behavior, although he seems determined to avoid me for the time being. Although you may not be aware of it, I hired you for the very reason you just described. My son is headstrong and still childish in many ways, but he is of the age now where those sorts of behaviors cannot be tolerated. He needs to learn to ground himself and bear the weight of responsibility, and who better to teach him those virtues than a man of the class who must embody them in order to survive. I must admit I was slightly concerned when I heard that my son had shown such an intense interest in you, but I am glad to see those concerns allayed.” Earl Horschhorn glanced up, meeting Ludwig’s eyes.

“I would like you to continue acting in the capacity of governor to Gilbert. He needs a strong moral compass in his life, and so far you have passed that test with flying colors.”

Ludwig felt his chest grow hot with embarrassment at the praise, and he had to avert his eyes, his large fingers tensing as he struggled to hold his tea cup steady.

“You flatter me too much, my lord,” he said. “I am only a soldier. An ex-soldier and a field hand. I do not consider myself a fool but I have difficulty picturing myself in such a position–”

“Your class is trained from birth to think little of itself,” the earl gently interrupted. “Trust my judgment. If I am proved wrong, then I only have myself to blame.”

Ludwig fell silent once more but then slowly nodded and set down his cup, afraid he might break the delicate porcelain if he held on to it much longer. The earl was trusting him to be a mentor to his son. The mere thought was absurd – something out of a fairy tale where there was magic and plots that hinged on the suspension of disbelief. The earl was clearly a bit unhinged, but Ludwig was loathe to question him further.

“Good,” Earl Horschhorn said, a pleased smile in his voice. “Your position will remain the same, but I will ask the staff to please cease their gossiping and rumor mongering. Lisa nearly ran out of breath trying to fill me in, although thankfully my wife is possessed of common sense enough to disregard some of the nastier rumors. I am sorry I cannot say the entirety of your class is comprised of the same amount of dignity you possess.”

Ludwig’s cheeks burned and he risked a nervous glance at the earl.

“Rumors, my lord?”

The earl’s expression darkened and he shook his head. “They do not bear repeating. The manor is isolated, and those that live here bereft of entertainment must make their own, I fear. Pay them no attention. I trust you, and they should as well. That is all that matters.”

Ludwig nodded again and quickly rose to his feet as the earl did. The older man led him to the door.

“When you see my son, please tell him that although I respect the sudden flurry of academia that has taken hold of him, I am growing a bit tired of his cousins complaining to me that he is not paying them the proper attention. Eliza especially. It would not do for him to isolate himself from her. Please do all you can to encourage him to interact socially on occasion.”

“I will, my lord,” Ludwig said quietly, still reeling from the sudden sense of responsibility the earl had burdened him with.

“Very good. And should you feel it necessary, please know that you may come to me with any pressing concerns. Good day, Ludwig.”

“Good day, my lord.”

The door closed behind him, and Ludwig remained standing in the hallway for a good while before he slowly made his way back to Gilbert’s study, unsure what to make of his talk with the earl, and wondering if Gilbert would even be willing to hear him out or if he would remain locked away in whatever little world he had built for himself.

Ludwig didn’t bother knocking on the door before entering Gilbert’s study, unsurprised to see that the younger man hadn’t moved.

He sat down across from Gilbert and picked up his own book again, content to read until Gilbert was ready to interact. He barely finished a page before he felt a very light tapping on his knee. He glanced up at Gilbert, a small smile on his face when he noticed the two red eyes peering at him from over the book. Gilbert was like a vulture, hunched over and staring fixedly at him as though waiting for him to keel over.

“…Well?”

Ludwig closed his book and raised an eyebrow.

“Well what?”

He could tell Gilbert was scowling just from the way the younger man’s brows knit together.

“Don’t you well what me. What did you and Pa—my father talk about?”

Ludwig folded his hands in his lap. Under normal circumstances he would have drawn out his report, hemming and hawing for as long as possible until Gilbert got ridiculously flustered and would resort to gentle physical violence or coercion to get him to talk. But the unsure and almost frightened look in the younger man’s eyes made him take pity on him, and so after only a moment he said softly, “You, mostly. And my job description.”

Gilbert’s fingers drummed against the cover of his book and he hunched over even more.

“…Is—will it be changing any time soon? He probably wants to demote you to gardener. Or stable manager or something a bit more fitting now that he is back. Or perhaps he wants to teach me a lesson. Of some twisted sort. Papa – no damn it all Father expressed concern before he left I’m sure that was it – too many books I should be alone now that I’m too old for silly nicknames and games and larking about with Eliza and the others. And I’m sure the staff have been whispering nasty things in his ear they always did hate me just because of a few infantile tricks it is abhorrent that they cannot handle them and –”

“Gilbert.”

Gilbert shut his mouth with an audible click, his face slightly flushed from his ramblings.

Ludwig reached out to gently tug Gilbert’s book out of his hands. The younger man made a quiet noise as his shelter was taken from him, and he scowled at Ludwig.

“You’re awfully bold, aren’t you,” he mumbled, but said nothing more, his eyes fixed on the ornate coffee table between them.

“If I show boldness you only have yourself to blame for that,” Ludwig said with a quiet snort before calming down. “His Lordship requested that my position be changed slightly, yes. To… I’m not even entirely sure myself. Your valet still, of course, but I believe in essence he was merely expressing his approval of the current situation.”

Gilbert’s eyes narrowed with obvious confusion, and his long fingers toyed with a loose thread on the end of his sleeve that had somehow escaped Ludwig’s scissors.

“So he’s not… sending me away?” he asked quietly, and Ludwig’s chest ached at the pitiably terrified look on the younger man’s face.

“It would be rather odd of him to extend my employment while sending away the whole reason I am employed to begin with,” Ludwig said as gently as he could, wondering what, exactly, the family had discussed when the staff was not around. “Why would you think he might?”

Gilbert shrugged, resting his cheek on his knees and staring off into space.

“An old threat that has been dominating my thoughts as of late,” he said quietly. “I thought… after he reprimanded me that he might finally be following through with it. He has said so often that Mother coddles me… that I should receive schooling elsewhere but I never wanted to leave. It used to make him so angry… and the other night during dinner he was talking as though after my birthday… if I don’t rise to expectations fast enough that drastic measures might be needed.”

Ludwig had a difficult time picturing the earl angry, but he had a strong suspicion the severe change in the man’s temperament would be enough to leave a mental scar on even the strongest will.

Gilbert hiccupped quietly and pressed his face against his knees, an unsteady laugh taking hold of him for a moment.

“A-And now you must think him right…” he whispered. “I’m pathetic. Eliza is almost four years my junior and she has seen so much more of the world than I have. Sometimes I feel so trapped here but the thought of leaving makes my very soul ache with fear. To have to explain myself to strangers and hide indoors again would be an embarrassment I do not know I could endure for long.”

Ludwig felt a strange sense of protectiveness take hold of him as he listened to the younger man speak, and on a whim he moved to sit on the floor in front of Gilbert, resting his hand atop the young lord’s. “There was no discussion of you leaving the manor,” he said quietly. “And if your father truly understands your anxiety he will not cast you out into the world defenseless. He is a good man.”

Gilbert sniffed quietly and lifted his head, his cheeks wet and an ashamed look on his face.

“A better man than me,” he said quietly, turning his hand over to wrap his fingers around Ludwig’s, his grip the strength of a drowning man’s. “He served in the war against Grandmama’s wishes, he saved so many lives and all I have done is read about the exploits of heroes in books. My life is fantasy and the more years I gain the more everyone around me imposes their realities upon it. And I’m too cowardly to go about constructing my own.”

He leaned forward and rested his head against Ludwig’s hand, his slim shoulders trembling very slightly.

Ludwig remained silent for a very long time, letting Gilbert cling to him as much as he needed. He had only the faintest idea of what the young lord was attempting so desperately to express. When he had been Gilbert’s age he had lied, enlisted in the army, and found himself in France before he could regret his naivety. He had never felt lonely or isolated, not the way Gilbert seemed to so keenly.

But he had felt pathetic. He was well acquainted with that emotion, a boy clinging to a broken bayonet as he sobbed alone in a muddy trench.

He would much rather Gilbert cry over his books. It was a sweeter hurt.

“Gilbert.”

The young lord immediately fell quiet, but his grip on Ludwig’s hand tightened.

Ludwig rested his hand atop the younger man’s head, awkwardly stroking the soft hair as he did his best to calm him. He had no younger siblings. No woman had ever come crying to him before. None thought he had the capacity to comfort, least of all himself, but he was beginning to understand why people did their best to offer solace and hope, even false. It was a selfish impulse. Shooting a mangled cat or a bird with a broken wing. It hurt too much to see them in pain.

“There is no shame in running until you are strong enough,” he said, wincing as his fingers caught a snarl and tugged a bit in Gilbert’s hair, but the young lord did not so much as stir. “Let the staff talk. I highly doubt any of them would deal with the sort of pressures you do with the same relative poise. And your father – his Lordship only wants what is best for you. Even someone like me can see that.”

“Someone like you,” Gilbert echoed, his voice muffled and bitter with tears. “A farmhand can understand the careful nuances of aristocratic familial politics, is that it? You have been here a month. You are a thief and a scoundrel and far too concerned with concealing your past exploits to be as innocent as you first appeared. You aren’t the easy prey I thought you would be and how dare you make such presumptions about my family as though you could even hope to empathize with my situation as an equal. A month ago you were swallowing dirt and your fingernails were black and broken and now you sit here and pretend you know anything about my life. I d-despise your very existence you pathetic farmhand. You don’t belong here. My father is too kind and I am too desperate and wretched to teach you your place like I should.”

His fingers tightened around Ludwig’s even more.

Ludwig felt his temper begin to flare, even as Gilbert spoke his same fears. He took a moment to calm it, resisting the urge to shove the younger man away. The speech was an injured animal. Raised hackles and little more. He was not stupid enough to fall for it, and not fool enough to ignore the sudden insight that took hold of him. Gilbert was privileged enough to cry on a soft couch instead of in a steel mill but the fundamentals were the same.

“I am pathetic,” he echoed, pulling his hand away and doing his best to ignore the quiet whimper from Gilbert that followed. “I ran away from home. A first in a long list of spineless actions that are not worth repeating. My pride has been my undoing too many times. And forgive me for being so bold, my lord, but you treating me as subhuman will not make what you are feeling less universal or more privileged an emotion. Your hostility is a sad cure for your loneliness.”

Gilbert lifted his head, a look of murderous intent on his tear streaked face before he averted his gaze. Ludwig could see him struggling in the tensing of his shoulders and the slight quickening of his breath, the way his hand shook as it rested upon his knee, and after a moment he took pity on the younger man.

He took the slender hand in his own once more, some injured and spiteful part of him delighting in the look of shame on Gilbert’s face as he accepted the touch.

“You’re a bastard,” Gilbert said quietly, his voice trembling with feigned viciousness. He scrubbed at his eyes. The stack of books against the sofa lost their precarious dance with gravity and fell to the side, the titles spilling over the sofa and the embroidered rug.

Ludwig reached out quickly to snatch a book from the air before it hit Gilbert and pushed the rest aside. He glanced down at the cover of the one he had stolen, recognizing the glimmering jacket in an instant as the same one that had caught his eye the first day of his employment. The title was still unreadable on the spine but he turned it over in his free hand and brushed his finger tips over the worn, embossed letters, trying to make them out. He’d seen Gilbert with the book so many times over the past few days. The same one always resting atop the growing stack.

He felt the young lord’s hand tremble in his own, and he quickly forgot the book, setting it aside.

Gilbert spared the thing a glance and then slowly leaned over, resting his head against the ornate pillow by the armrest of the couch. He closed his eyes, his cheeks still red and rubbed raw from the rough fabric of his sleeve.

“You’re still here.”

His voice was dull.

“Yes,” Ludwig said simply.

Red eyes scrutinized him for a moment, their luster gone, a hunted look stealing it away.

Slim fingers threaded through Ludwig’s, no pretense of guidance shielding the action from what it truly was.

Ludwig tensed uncomfortably, sparing a glance at the door, but Gilbert’s voice made him turn back.

“Why did you run away?”

Ludwig shook his head, his eyes narrowing.

“I don’t feel like privileging you with that information right now.”

Gilbert let out a humorless laugh, his eyes slipping shut.

“So cagey, farmhand. It’s unbecoming.”

“Tell me why you were crying. Then perhaps I’ll be more inclined to share my own humiliation.”

Gilbert immediately fell silent, his nails digging into the back of Ludwig’s hand.

“I wasn’t crying.”

“Then I didn’t run away.”

Ludwig caught the younger man’s wrist just before his palm hit his cheek, the furious look on Gilbert’s face making his stomach churn.

“I hate you,” Gilbert whispered, his voice tight and his fingers trembling. “Ever since I met you everything started to change. The staff and Papa and – …”

“And what?” Ludwig asked coldly, not releasing Gilbert’s wrist, even when the young lord practically collapsed against him, pressing his forehead against his chest.

“And you ran away,” Gilbert said listlessly. “So neither of us will talk.”

Ludwig closed his eyes, Gilbert’s breath on his neck and the pulse underneath his fingertips making his stomach churn and his head feel light as his senses were robbed from him.

“No. For now I don’t suppose we will.”

He released Gilbert’s wrist, wanting to push him away, but still the young lord did not move, not for a very long time. Finally he shifted, but only to rest his hand against Ludwig’s cheek, his fingers curling against Ludwig’s skin, leaving tiny pink marks in their wake. Ludwig tensed, unable or unwilling still to push him back to a safe distance, he didn’t know which. He was sure Gilbert could feel his heart thudding in his chest, loud enough to deafen him, but still the young man didn’t move, not until there came a knock on the door.

The sound broke the heavy air that had settled cocoon-like around them, and Gilbert pushed himself up, bracing himself with his hand against Ludwig’s chest. His fingers tightened in the fabric of Ludwig’s jacket for a long moment before he pulled away completely.

“What?” he asked wearily, and the door opened enough for a maid to poke her head inside.

“Lord Gilbert, your aunt and uncle have arrived at the train station. Your father has asked that you accompany the family to pick them up.”

Gilbert nodded and ran his fingers distractedly through his hair.

“I will be there in a minute,” he said absently, his red eyes flicking to the side to study Ludwig before dismissing him. The maid bowed and then left, leaving the door open.

Ludwig remained seated on the floor, watching Gilbert as the young lord picked himself up, stretching with the tired elegance of a caged jungle cat.

“Wait in my room, farmhand. We shouldn’t be gone long.”

Ludwig pushed himself to his feet, reaching out to straighten the young lord’s necktie, but his hand was pushed away.

“Ludwig. Enough.”

Ludwig lowered his hand, confusion rooting him to the spot as the last of the fog began to clear and reality pressed in. Gilbert was already heading out the door, his footsteps ringing against the hardwood floor in the hallway.

Ludwig slowly sank to the couch, his hands trembling slightly.

What…

What had that been.

He searched the coffee table where he had set the book, but it was nowhere to be found. A sleight of hand, and it was in Gilbert’s. Pocketed no doubt when he had let his guard slip for the fraction Gilbert had engineered.

Just as everything else had been.

Ludwig pressed a hand against his face, listening to the distance sound of the motor carriage being primed. The heavy afternoon light pressed in through the curtains, and he felt the sting of two pinpricks against his cheek where the first hint of poison had left its mark.


	12. Eng(a)ge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so this chapter is way too long but i felt badly because i haven’t updated in a bit. that and i usually write chapters until they feel finished and this one took a very long time to feel like it was done.
> 
> also man. the ending. tough stuff. HAHA I AM TORTURING YOU WITH MY KNOWLEDGE OF SPOILERS.
> 
> there is a slight chance that writing all day has broken me mentally.

The study was dark by the time Ludwig followed the order.

He made his way up to Gilbert’s room, almost forgetting to take the servant’s stairs. He had remained in the house proper unaccompanied once. Kirkland’s anger had ensured he hadn’t repeated the mistake.  
The servant’s side of the house was excruciatingly hot, the fires from the kitchen keeping every room on the second level a blistering desert. The rest of the staff was running around, seemingly unmindful of the heat. Ludwig took the stairs, ignoring Kirkland and Mrs. Peeters who were arguing in quiet voices on one of the landings. Neither of them spared him so much as a glance. In fact, if Ludwig have given it proper thought, he would have realized that all of the staff moved around him as though he were merely a pillar of the house. An integral part that the residents would miss only if it were taken away and the roof came crashing down.

But Ludwig’s mind was fixated firmly on the quiet touch against his cheek and the sharp pinpricks of the near memory of every little detail. The rustle of fabric. The sliding of books against the sofa. The way Gilbert’s throat moved when he swallowed and the near reverence with which he had parted lips to speak.

Ludwig’s feet managed to come to a halt before he ran into a door.

He remained still for a moment, pressing a hand against his face and ignoring the clap upon his shoulder and a loud, brash voice.

“Cheer up, mate. Don’t let the poms get you down.”

Ludwig finally stirred. He spared the Australian a little glance before nodding to whatever he had said. He pushed his way through the door into the house proper again. Gilbert’s room was bathed in twilight, the rich crimsons casting bloodstains on the carpet.

Ludwig sat down in his usual chair and stared at the fire. It was ready to be lit for the night. The maid had already made her rounds. The linins on the bed smelled of cut grass and sunlight, and drifting through the window came the final song of the birds before their sleep.

Ludwig lost track of time as he sat, struggling to keep his mind fixated on the details of the room and to ignore his stinging cheek. It was pointless to ask questions. The only man who could have answered them was not available at the moment. If ever he would be.

Tomorrow was Gilbert’s birthday.

It was a dull, listless sort of realization. Ludwig had been so worried about the mental health of his charge he had neglected the calendar. Was he expected to get the young lord a gift? What could he possibly want or need? More books? Sheet music? Intellectual curios that Ludwig had no hope of obtaining?

Ludwig was startled out of his brooding by the sound of a motor carriage engine, and he quickly hurried to the window, peering out just in time to see several carriages pull up to the front of the house. Out stepped Eliza first, followed immediately by two adults Ludwig did not recognize, although the tall stature of the woman and her striking blonde hair called to mind the Earl’s own coloring and build. His sister then, most likely. Eliza’s mother.

Several other strangers disembarked, two of whom Ludwig took to be Gilbert’s grandparents, and lastly Vash and Roderich came tumbling out, arguing furiously until Eliza hit them both and demanded in a voice loud enough for Ludwig to hear that they both behave.

Ludwig ignored them, his attention drawn to the second carriage. Lady Horschhorn was the first to disembark, followed by her husband and finally Gilbert. The young lord was smiling and laughing as he addressed another stranger who stepped out with them, a tall, lanky, dark haired boy whose accent gave him away. A Spaniard.

Ludwig felt something twist in his gut as the stranger rested his hand on Gilbert’s shoulder and leaned down to speak to him, making the young lord’s face light up before he burst into laughter. The smile was one Ludwig was not overly acquainted with. Not the strained, forced grimace Gilbert wore in front of his father or the tired one he offered him over the edge of a book.

Ludwig pushed himself away from the window, his hands clenching into fists at his sides, feeling as though he were ready to burst apart. Gilbert had left him bewildered and alone, ordered him to wait in his room like a dog and drown in his own thoughts while he had clearly brushed the incident off as though it were nothing. And here he was laughing with a Spaniard as though he had not spent the past week wallowing in whatever private misery he’d conjured up.

It was only after he registered the stinging in his hand that Ludwig realized he had slammed his fist into a bookshelf. He stared at the small cut and only after a drop of blood from an imbedded splinter threatened to spill on the rug did he finally bring his hand to his lips to close the wound. He sat in his chair once more, wanting more than anything to go back to the privacy of his own room. Gilbert was no longer even treating him as a servant. He was a toy. And hadn’t Gilbert said something to that effect when he had been hired? That he was just a toy. An amusement. Clearly this had been another dalliance in entertainment for the boy and Ludwig felt like an utter fool for allowing it to affect him so badly.

He immediately stood and headed out of Gilbert’s room, doing his best to block his ears from the sound of the earl’s family and his guests down in the entrance room. Their happy voices were buoyed by a voice Ludwig knew well, and it made him feel sick with anger.

No one in the staff section even bothered to stop him, every last maid and footman preoccupied with preparing dinner for the most noble family. Ludwig locked himself in his room and changed out of his work clothes and into the lone casual outfit he still possessed. His hand was on the doorknob before he finally caught himself.

He was going to leave.

He took a step away from the door and lowered his hand.

Anger was a moronic reason to run.

He kept repeating that to himself over and over again until the message stuck enough that he was able to turn away from the door completely. He sat down at his desk and on a whim grabbed the small notebook Kirkland had left him (“For taking notes on decorum”) and rummaged around in the desk until he found a pen and ink. He opened the notebook to the first blank page past all of Kirkland’s scribbling and began to write.

The nib broke several times, but thankfully a box of spares was tucked in the very back of one of the drawers and with a few minor adjustments he was able to keep going. He let his hand dictate the letters that fell on the page, his mind the blank space before the ink. When at last his fingers began to cramp and he lost what little daylight had been left to him he sat back, massaging his hand and wiping ink stains from his skin with a handkerchief.

The ink was still wet upon the page when he closed the book and pushed it away. The sounds of the house slowly filled the room once more, Kirkland’s reedy voice and Mrs. Peeters booming one forming a dire symphony that he wished he could block out.

A knock on the door made him close his eyes in an attempt to get control over his spiking temper once more before he pushed himself up. A footman had probably dropped a soup tureen on his foot again or some other minor disaster that the staff took upon themselves as though the Horsemen were nipping at their heels with every smudged piece of flatware.

Ludwig yanked open the door, ready to play sick or simply glare until the offending party went away, but he remained silent when all that stood there to greet him was Gilbert.

The young man’s mouth was partially open as though ready to speak, but his red eyes were fixated on Ludwig’s clothing. Red eyes looked up to meet his, and Ludwig through the noose of irritation around his neck could read the hurt in them.

“You’re leaving?”

Ludwig remained silent for a long while before he muttered, “The thought took hold of me for a moment. It’s gone now.”

Gilbert’s shoulders slumped and a look of both relief and anger flashed across his face before he shook his head and jabbed a finger against Ludwig’s chest, his normal posturing returning.

“You weren’t where I told you to be,” he said accusingly. “And here I find you sulking in your room in your peasant’s clothes threatening to leave?”

“I wanted nothing more than to be alone, but it seems that even the privacy of my own room is not off limits to you,” Ludwig snapped. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have guests to attend to?”

Gilbert waved his hand dismissively, and the casualness of the gesture made Ludwig’s blood boil.

“Papa is entertaining them with stories in the parlor. No one noticed me slip out and I doubt they will for some time.”

“So you snuck away to see if I had followed your petulant order?” Ludwig asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “You give your family too little credit. They will notice your absence and then the questions and rumors will begin to fly again. Go back.”

Gilbert raised a pale eyebrow at that and then took a little step backwards.

“…You’re angry with me,” he said as though enlightened beyond the telling of it. “You’re furious. Why?”

Had Gilbert’s voice lacked the slight hint of desperation Ludwig might have closed the door in his face. As it was he simply scowled and muttered, “You said some very cruel things and then behaved in an alarming manner. I do not think anger in an inappropriate response at this juncture.”

Gilbert’s eyes flew wide open and a dark flush stole over his cheeks. Long fingers twisted in his suit coat before he mumbled, “I… I have things on my mind…”

“We all are preoccupied with some thought of another, but most of us do not lash out at a friendly hand because of them.”

Gilbert winced and fell silent again, a horribly vulnerable posture contorting his shoulders.

The two stood silent for a very long time, Ludwig’s anger still clamoring for attention despite his lackluster desire to release it. Gilbert looked miserable once more, the dead look taking hold of his eyes. Pale lips parted again, but before Gilbert could speak Kirkland’s shocked voice rang down the corridor.

“Lord Gilbert! Whatever are you doing here?”

Gilbert jerked upright and shot a cold glare in the approaching butler’s direction before he suddenly reached out and grabbed Ludwig’s wrist. Ludwig was too surprised to fight the touch, and he met Gilbert’s wide eyes with a puzzled look of his own, barely catching the younger man’s words.

“Tomorrow – you have to come to my party tomorrow. Please, I’ll… I’ll go mad if you’re not there.”

“Very well,” Ludwig said in slight bemusement, still not sure he properly understood the situation. But the grateful smile in return for his words tempered his anger enough to allow him to push it aside for the time being. Gilbert’s fingers tightened around his wrist before he pulled away. Kirkland stormed towards them an irritated look on his face, and Gilbert turned to meet him.

“Kirkland, honestly if you spent half as much energy taming those hair growths above your eyes as you do strutting about the place there would be a happy Mrs. Kirkland on your arm,” Gilbert drawled, brushing past Ludwig on his way down the hall. The butler shot Ludwig an odd look but then turned to follow Gilbert. “Perhaps if you were to do the same with your personality, my lord, the same could be said of you.”

Gilbert laughed, the noise fading as the two turned down the hallway to enter the house proper. Ludwig shook his head to clear it and then headed back inside his room, closing the door behind him. He spared the notebook on his desk a glance and shoved it back in a drawer. He did not want to see the sorts of awful things he had most likely written. Anger had a way of clouding the mind, and reliving ones moments of impassioned fury while sane tended to only lead to tears and self-recrimination.

Ludwig got ready for bed and turned in, the distant sounds of instruments being played in the house proper lilting into his room and sending him quickly off to sleep. The emotional exhaustion from the day took its toll, and his dreams were a miasma of rotting fruit and drowning voices and flames in a bright garden. He awoke disoriented and confused to the sound of workers outside readying the tents for the guest’s welcoming reception and Gilbert’s birthday.

Ludwig remained in bed for a while longer, hoping somehow that he would receive a wake up call from Gilbert (the first one in a long time) even though reason and sense dictated that the young lord would have his hands full with the guests.

After a half an hour of disappointed waiting Ludwig pushed himself out of bed and addressed the day properly. The confusion from yesterday was nicely sequestered in the back of his mind where it would not bother him until he chose to acknowledge it. That, at least, he still had some control over.

Finally presentable, he made his way downstairs to the kitchens and grabbed a quick breakfast, ignoring the usual odd glances his way. Even after a month it seemed the staff still regarded him as an oddity. It was mildly irksome, but not enough that Ludwig felt the need to call it to attention yet.

As he ate, he kept his attention fixed mostly on Gilbert’s bell, waiting for it to ring as it always did during meal times for the staff. It was as though the young lord knew exactly when the staff was sitting down to eat, and Ludwig would not have been surprised to find a schedule taped inside one of Gilbert’s books. That seemed like something the schemer would do.

But no ring ever came.

Ludwig cleared his dishes, bringing them over to the small window that allowed food and plates to be passed back and forth between the kitchen and the dining area. A bit of conversation behind him made him listen properly as one of the maids whispered to another, “It must be true, he’s fallen out of favor already. Lasted longer than the others though.”

“Aye, or someone else’s caught his flighty little eye again. Always on the lookout for more devious playmates, that one.”

The two women immediately fell silent when Ludwig shot them a little glare, but he did not stay long enough to truly give them a piece of his mind. He brushed past them, barely managing to hold his tongue, and was about to storm up the stairs in a truly childish fashion when Mrs. Peeters caught hold of his sleeve with a gentle, “A moment, Mr. Schmidt.”

Ludwig managed to school his expression into something a bit less murderous and he turned to face the older woman. The ribbon in her hair was bright green today, and she wore a look of polite commissary on her face.

“As I am sure you are aware, today is of the utmost importance. I highly expect Lord Gilbert to be a bit of a mess, guests or no, and as his valet I fully anticipate that you will go above and beyond the normal call of duty in ensuring that he remain as happy and as calm as possible. We do not want our guests to receive an unfavorable impression of him or our staff.”

Ludwig gave a brisk nod, but then had to ask, “Will my presence not be regarded as offensive by the company? Procedure here seems slightly… different than the norm.”

Mrs. Peeters waved her hand and said idly, “Let the guests think what they want about you. Caring and genuine help is hard to come by these days. I would be surprised if your presence left them with a negative impression.”

She gently shooed him upstairs.

“Go on, now. The family should be sitting down to breakfast shortly. You can go help with the decorations until Lord Gilbert requires you.”

Ludwig could only nod again as he was pushed towards the stairs. He quickly hurried to his room to take care of the rest of his routine, shaving and brushing his teeth and slicking back his hair before he headed outside. The tents were already erected and the tables laid out, so he was forced to assist with the more delicate work of stringing lamps and setting places. He was allowed to go down to the gate and direct the flower carts and other delivery vehicles, Kirkland’s clipboard in hand. The upper tiers of the staff seemed to accept his presence, at least, he thought to himself, marking off each delivery as it was made.

A small noise to his left caught his attention, and he turned just in time to see the last of the workers heading off to the fields in the path beyond the grounds. He stood atop the slight hill and watched them, the looks of longing and curiosity they cast towards the tents striking a chord within him and making him wonder how it was that little more than a month ago he was among their ranks. And still he was not sure if God had smiled upon him or not. In Church he kept to the back, politely declining a seat with the rest of the staff, but the workers seemed completely indifferent to his presence as well. It was possible they did not recognize him, dressed as he was in his new clothes, and for his part it was too strange to see the men out of context with their work to cause him any amount of nostalgia.

He wondered if any of them remembered him at all.

The last of the deliveries was made without a problem, and Ludwig returned to the grounds just in time to see the family and their guests come out of the manor. The three children went running off to see the new displays of flowers that were being set up around the perimeter while the adults hung back, talking amongst themselves and studying the tents.

Ludwig skirted them all a wide berth and went to make his report to Kirkland, who seemed inordinately frazzled. The butler brushed him off and told him to make himself busy elsewhere, and so Ludwig reluctantly went back to the detail work he was so terrible at.

A bright voice made him lift his head, but he quickly lowered it again as Gilbert and his Spaniard friend made their way past him. Gilbert didn’t seem to have noticed him, for he was still talking animatedly to his the other boy and gesturing wildly.

“Antonio, really, that was years ago! How do you even still remember a single prank from boarding school?”

“Because it was traumatic, my lord,” the Spaniard laughed. “No normal person would enjoy waking up to find their bed floating away down a river.”

“But that’s the brilliance of it all,” Gilbert said, and Ludwig could not help but smile as he heard the slight pout in the young man’s voice. “No one there truly recognized my talents.”

“And I suppose that is why you only lasted a year,” Antonio said good-naturedly, laughing again as Gilbert lunged for him. The two grappled with each other, slinging insults back and forth until Lady Horschhorn called out, “Gilbert if you wrinkle your suit you will be locked in the parlor until the party begins.”

Gilbert immediately detangled himself from the other boy, and out of the corner of his eye Ludwig could see a little scowl on the young lord’s face.

“Goodness. Her Ladyship is still as strict as ever, I see,” Antonio said, breathing slightly heavily as he sat down in one of the chairs the staff was trying to decorate. The maid with her garland of flowers looked flustered and she danced from one foot to the other in an unsure gait before reluctantly turning to decorate another chair, resigning the other to the Spaniard.

Gilbert likewise sat down, his back to Ludwig.

“You don’t need to call her that, you know. It isn’t as though you are of so low a status that you need to lick our boots. None of this lord or lady business. Father and Mother would be glad to hear you call them by their Christian names, as would I,” he said dryly. Ludwig could not help but wince at that, the words spoken so casually stringing a minor chord in him.

But Antonio merely laughed and said politely, “Some day, perhaps,” which made Ludwig relax enough that he could get back to work, only mildly ashamed that he was so blatantly eavesdropping. His moral center had clearly been warped beyond repair.

The two friends talked for a while longer about boarding school before Antonio leaned in and pitched his voice a bit quieter.

“So… is the valet to ever make an appearance? Or must he forever remain shrouded in mystery?”

“Shh, Toni, not so loud,” Gilbert hissed, and Ludwig ducked slightly as the young lord glanced around, his ears pink. How on earth did this stranger know about him?

“Why?” Antonio asked, laughing quietly. “You are so strange when it comes to these sorts of things.”

“That is because ‘these sorts of things’ have no place in proper conversation in broad daylight,” Gilbert muttered, his long fingers toying with a napkin, folding it into various intricate shapes. “And you are assuming far too much. He’s a valet. It’s rather exciting that he hasn’t reported me to Father yet or complained about me to Kirkland or Mrs. Peeters but that is all. He is staff. Nothing more.”

Ludwig ‘s chest tightening painfully. His hands grew still, and he let the silver fall where it wanted.

It was strange. All Gilbert had said were facts. He was staff. He was only the young lord’s valet, but he had thought that perhaps… that Gilbert might have thought them to be friends. Or acquaintances, at the very least.

That must have been why his ears were ringing. He was angry. Or should have been, at Gilbert’s ungratefulness. The dismissive way in which he discussed him and belittled the lengths to which Ludwig had gone to adapt to what he had thought the young lord wanted. Not just to keep his job but because it made Gilbert smile and turn away from his books to look at him. For a time, even if only brief.

But another burst of laughter dragged him from the new sort of anger he was feeling, and he glanced up in time to see Gilbert’s ears turning red as the Spaniard laughed.

“You, my friend, are woefully transparent,” Antonio said with a bright smile. “If someone even as thick skulled as me can read through you, you had better not let this valet too close. Or heaven forbid Lord Horschhorn.”

“There is nothing to read,” Gilbert hissed, hunching down even more. “He – he’s a farmhand, and –”

“And yet mysterious and intelligent… or do you not want me to quote from your letters?” Antonio said teasingly, laughing again as he dodged another swipe from Gilbert.

“Enough,” Gilbert said tersely, rising to his feet, his hands twitching like they were wont to do when he was well and truly flustered. “I see I placed my confidence in a poor choice. Let me be.”

“What – oh Gilbert, come now you don’t need to sulk,” Antonio laughed, hurrying after his friend who was storming towards his family. Their bickering voices gradually faded enough for Ludwig to stand up straight, the odd feeling from yesterday taking hold of him again. Why would Gilbert write to someone about him? Although he had kept his past concealed not to antagonize the young man but rather for his own sake, had that somehow backfired and made him seem more interesting than he actually was?

That had to be it.

Ludwig quickly got back to work when he caught Kirkland glaring at him, but soon all of the tables were set and he was left without a job to do. Mrs. Peeters’ instructions still rang in his ears, so he was loathe to go inside and make himself scarce, but with someone else by Gilbert’s side he did not know where to turn.

He made his way to the canal instead where the three cousins were playing. Or rather, Eliza seemed to be daring Roderich to touch some algae and Vash was watching his cousin tear up with a look of feigned boredom on his face.

“Eliza, I don’t want to!” Roderich said tearfully, his hand shaking as his cousin pulled it closer and closer to a patch of green.

“Roddie, you are being so ridiculous! It’s just a little plant,” Eliza said in exasperation, tugging on her cousin’s arm and ignoring his weeping. “You need to get over this silly phobia!”

She glanced up as Ludwig approached and quickly let go of Roderich’s arm, standing up.

“Ludwig!”

She frowned and peered behind him before asking curiously, “Where’s Gilbert?”

“He is off with his friend,” Ludwig said, crouching down on the banks of the canal next to Roderich. The boy gave him a wary look and scooted away slightly.

“Oh…”

Eliza shrugged and then knelt down again to grab Roderich’s arm, ignoring his little shriek of despair.

“I am attempting to help Roddie get over his fear of plants. Would you like to help?”

“No, thank you,” Ludwig said, nodding towards Vash who gave him a curt little nod in return. “And perhaps you should be a bit gentler with your cousin, my lady.”

Eliza gave Ludwig a sour look but finally released Roderich’s hand with a little sigh.

“Fine, fine. You are the voice of reason aren’t you. It’s a wonder Gilbert enjoys playing with you so much,” she said with a huff, pushing herself to her feet and grabbing Vash’s hand instead. “Come on, Vash. I want to see if the duck eggs in the pond have hatched yet.”

“Eiz—”

Before the boy could properly protest he was being dragged away, leaving Ludwig and Roderich alone. Roderich was still staring at the algae with a pained look on his face, and finally Ludwig took pity on him. He pushed up his sleeve and reached down into the water to fish some of the plant out, holding it towards Roderich. The boy visibly blanched and backed away, but Ludwig said as gently as he could, “It won’t hurt you. See? Just a plant.”

Roderich still looked uncertain, but after what was undoubtedly a long inner war with himself, reached out to press his fingertips against the green surface. He furrowed his brow and made a quiet ‘huh’ noise.

“It’s slimy,” he mumbled, pulling his hand back and wiping his fingers on the grass.

“A bit,” Ludwig agreed, releasing the plant and cleaning his hands with a handkerchief. “But now you can tell your cousin that you aren’t afraid anymore. I will even vouch for you.”

Instead of looking happy or relieved like Ludwig was expecting, Roderich looked pained, and he pushed himself to his feet, fiddling with his glasses.

“…Why are you being nice to me? You are Gilbert’s valet.”

“Oh? So does it follow that I should be mean to his cousins?” Ludwig asked mildly, not standing up for fear of intimidating the flighty boy.

Roderich shook his head and made a frustrated noise before he said loftily, “It is just as well, I suppose. Everyone says you spend far too much time with him.”

“…Do they now,” Ludwig said quietly, his eyes narrowing. “And who exactly is everyone?”

Some of the boy’s arrogant posturing fell away, and he pushed his glasses up several times before mumbling, “Just… several members of the staff…” His dark blue eyes darted back and forth for a moment before he said quietly, “I need to find Eliza,” and hurried away.

Ludwig stood up and watched the boy scurry off, a small frown on his face.

“Nosy kid,” he muttered.

“I could not agree more.”

Ludwig jumped at the voice and turned to see Gilbert standing behind him, an amused yet irritated look on his face. The young lord sighed and took a few steps forward to watch Roderich stumble over a hill.

“He has always had it out for me,” he said absently, smirking a bit when Roderich went tumbling over the apex and down the other side. “I speculate that it has to do with Eliza’s fondness for me. Jealous little bastard never could stand it. Not even when he was younger.”

“As always your ego’s speculations seem to be the most readily accepted,” Ludwig said dryly, easily falling back into the teasing routine without pause.

“Hurtful, Ludwig. Truly hurtful,” Gilbert said, managing to make himself sound honestly injured. Ludwig opened his mouth to apologize before common sense took hold of him. He took a slight step away and glanced around.

“Where is your friend?”

“Hm?” Gilbert tilted his head to the side. “Ah… Antonio? He is being given the first degree by my mother.” Gilbert gave a discrete cough. “I may have er… engineered a conversation between them. He is wonderful in small doses but after a day of his hanging about and badgering me I have had enough to last me a while.”

“So you came to find me now that your current distraction has grown wearisome?” Ludwig asked, a slight challenge in his tone that he had not meant to add.

Gilbert shifted uncomfortably and hung his head, his red eyes fixed on the fish swimming the canals.

“…You make it sound as though I had any control over where my feet led me,” he said quietly. “After a day of resisting every instinct I possessed, I finally had to give in.”

Ludwig made a slightly frustrated noise at the evasive response. “You wanted to see the canal? Is that it?”

Gilbert slowly turned to stare up at him with a deadpan expression before he said dryly, “Yes, Ludwig. Yes I have been missing the canal all day. My every waking thought has been preoccupied with how the canal has been doing after a bit of awkwardness between us the past couple of days and how foolish I was to expect the canal to tolerate my flighty and fearful personality without complaint. That is exactly it.”

Ludwig fell silent for a long while and then muttered, “I believe it honestly would kill you to give me a straight answer.”

“Probably,” Gilbert agreed, threading his fingers behind his head as he glanced up at the sky. “My heart would seize with crippling embarrassment and I would fall down stone dead upon the floor. Thousands would weep themselves sick at my funeral over my beautiful corpse and you would no doubt wander the world the rest of your days searching for a way to bring me back like the devoted man you are.”

“I never claimed to have quite that level of commitment to a simple valet job,” Ludwig said blandly, but he could not keep a slight smile from stealing over his face.

Gilbert seemed to have noticed for he relaxed and gave the man a cautious smile of his own. After a moment he tugged on Ludwig’s sleeve and sat down, dragging the older man with him. He pulled off his socks and shoes and rolled up the cuffs of his pants to dip his feet into the canal. Ludwig sat back and watched him; worried that if he took his eyes off of the young lord Gilbert would fall into another one of his moods and burn the bridge between them again as he did so easily.

“I have… I have found myself preoccupied with… the canal… for some time now,” Gilbert suddenly said, his voice halting and unsure.

Ludwig tensed for a brief moment and then cleared his throat and said softly, “Yes, apparently the staff has taken an interest in your preoccupation en masse.”

“Well the staff should mind their own damn business,” Gilbert muttered, kicking his foot out and splashing water droplet everywhere.

“You are their business. You are their future employer; it’s only natural that they should gossip.”

Gilbert shot him a betrayed look and then turned back to the water, mumbling, “Just whose side are you on, farmhand.”

Ludwig’s expression softened and before he could still his hand, he found himself reaching out to brush a lock of hair out of Gilbert’s eyes.

“Yours, of course. My lord.”

Ludwig watched with mild amusement as Gilbert’s whole face turned red, and the young lord bit his bottom lip, still staring fixedly at the canal.

“W-What have I told you about titles, farmhand,” Gilbert finally mumbled, scrubbing at his hair to muss it again. “Let me live in my deluded fantasy world a day longer.”

“It would help me to remember if you would kindly refrain from calling me farmhand,” Ludwig said, leaning in a bit more to fix Gilbert’s hair again. “And Her Ladyship will have my head if you show up to your birthday party looking as though a flock of vagrant birds made your hair their nest.”

Ludwig felt Gilbert tremble when his rough fingers brushed against the young lord’s forehead, and he pulled his hand away with a quiet apology. The odd tension that had wrapped around them yesterday had found its way back, but this time Gilbert looked as though he were ready to flee rather than ready to strike. He was perched so precariously on the edge of the canal that Ludwig had to fight not to reach out and pull him back.

Or to simply reach out at all. Pretext of drowning prevention pushed aside.

Gilbert shivered again, and his red eyes flicked to the side to stare fixedly at Ludwig’s shoulder.

“You have rough hands,” the young lord mumbled, as though by way of explanation.

“I’m sorry,” Ludwig said quietly back, feeling that odd band drawing tighter around them, biding him to move closer. Ever so slightly.

Gilbert’s throat bobbed as he swallowed and then he shook his head.

“I don’t recall voicing that in the negative,” he said softly, running his fingers through his hair again before glancing expectantly at Ludwig, a look of delighted fear on his face.

Ludwig sighed quietly but reached out once again to fix the soft strands, tucking a lock of white-blonde hair behind Gilbert’s ear. His fingers brushed against the delicate shell of Gilbert’s ear and barely touched the edge of the younger man’s jaw.

Gilbert shivered, but just as Ludwig was about to pull away and apologize once more, he found Gilbert leaning in, tilting his head into the touch. Ruby eyes caught his own, and Ludwig felt his heart stop for one painful moment at the look of fearful trust on Gilbert’s face.

A pink tongue darted out to wet his lips, and Gilbert parted them to speak when the Earl’s booming voice rang out over the yard.

“Gilbert! Gilbert, you need to come greet the other guests.”

The band snapped, the spell broke, and Gilbert jerked away from Ludwig as though shot, a multitude of soft curses falling from his lips instead of whatever sweet words Ludwig had been holding his breath to hear.

Ludwig shook his head to clear it and sat back, his face pale and his fingers feeling as though they were on fire. He studied Gilbert as the younger man scrambled to tug on socks and shoes and pushed himself to his feet, no longer like a graceful animal but like an ungainly creature who suddenly found itself missing a limb.

“Right,” Gilbert mumbled to himself, red eyes darting wildly about. “Right, yes. The party, I –”

He cast a helpless look at Ludwig, who finally stood as well.

“Breathe,” Ludwig said quietly, biting his lip so as not to laugh when Gilbert sucked in a lungful of air like a drowning man.

“Breathe better than that.”

Gilbert shot him a little glare but slowly let out his breath, his long fingers still twitching nervously. He licked his lips again.

“Ludwig, that – I’m sorry it… I seem to have difficultly retaining my senses when I’m around – when I’m around the… the canal.”

Gilbert winced at the lame words and tried again.

“What I mean is it – it’s just a joke. Another prank .Yes. Yes that’s – I wanted to get back at Kirkland for… for something and I…”

Gilbert trailed off, casting one last look at Ludwig before his shoulder slumped and he shook his head. When he stood up straight again his normal Cheshire grin was back on his face.

“The summer heat seems to be getting to me,” he said lightly, turning to walk away. “I suppose it can’t be helped.”

Ludwig felt disappointment sink in his stomach like a lead weight, but he followed after Gilbert like the obedient servant carapace he had become.

“I suppose not, my lord.”

Gilbert’s steps slowed and he turned to glance up at Ludwig again, his eyes widening slightly as he did so.

“Ludwig? Are – you don’t look well,” he said quietly.

Ludwig blinked slowly, surprised to find weariness pricking at his eyes. He quickly scrubbed the feeling away as he mumbled, “I am simply having trouble adjusting to this new trick of yours, I think. Yesterday I – I thought it might…” He laughed mirthlessly and let his hand fall, ignoring the look of cornered terror on Gilbert’s face.

“I will get used to it, I suppose. Although I wish you would explain the rules,” he said quietly, offering Gilbert a small, empty smile.

Gilbert took a step back, looking for a moment as though he were ready to bolt before he shook his head.

“I’m afraid I don’t know them myself,” he said quietly, glancing up at Ludwig through his pale lashes. “Yesterday I – …I lost myself. And I have never once felt lost in my life.” He let out a shuddering sigh and pressed a hand against his face.

“You frighten me, Ludwig. Through no fault of your own. And if you had any common sense you would find me terrifying as well. Or you would be angry with me for how often I abandon you in your confusion to deal with my own.”

Ludwig shook his head and opened his mouth to speak when another loud voice interrupted them. For the thousandth damn time.

God wasn’t smiling. He was smirking snide and gleeful.

Bastard.

“Gilbert!”

Ludwig sighed when the Spaniard came jogging over the hill towards them, his bright green eyes wild with excitement.

Gilbert tensed and cast Antonio a vicious glare before turning back to Ludwig, a helpless look on his face. Ludwig shook his head and took a small step forward, pretending to straighten Gilbert’s tie so he could say softly, “Tonight.”

He heard Gilbert’s breath catch, but after a moment the young lord nodded and Ludwig pulled away just as Antonio reached them.

“Gilbert, here you are,” he said cheerfully, sparing Ludwig a curious glance. “Your father needs you.”

“Yes… yes of course,” Gilbert said distractedly, shoving his hands in his pockets. Antonio raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment as he walked alongside his friend back towards the manor.

Ludwig stayed a pace behind the two, watching Gilbert’s shoulders slowly straighten as the younger man seemed to get control of himself once more. He felt the comforting normalcy settle over them once more, and he remained silent as they made their way back to the manor.

There were close to fifty guests milling about by the time they arrived, but the moment the earl spotted Gilbert he moved to his side, clapping his son on the shoulder.

“May I have your attention please, ladies and gentlemen?”

The assembled crowd fell silent, all turning to stare expectantly at the earl. To his side stood the woman Ludwig had spotted yesterday, and up close the family resemblance was even more striking. In front of her stood Eliza, the girl humming quietly to herself despite her mother’s warning hand on her shoulder. The earl glanced at his sister, the two exchanging a bright smile for a moment before the earl spoke again.

“Today marks my son’s seventeenth birthday. Some of the staff seemed skeptical he would ever reach this age so unscathed and with so many of his limbs and digits still intact.”

The staff gathered in the back laughed, as did a smattering of the gathered guests.

Ludwig took a polite step back, trying to blend in with the crowd as much as possible. Gilbert caught his eyes again and gave him a little smile that Ludwig returned.

The earl cleared his throat.

“However, against all odds Gilbert has managed to survive seventeen years, and it is my decided pleasure today to announce not only my formal successor to the manor, but also to announce an engagement we have long seen coming.”

A look of horror suddenly crossed Gilbert’s features, and his head snapped back to stare up disbelievingly at his father.

A similar look on Eliza’s face informed Ludwig a moment too late of what it was the earl was about to say.

“As of today, my sister and I have decided to make public Eliza and Gilbert’s engagement. Of course as this is the twentieth century, we understand that as they mature others may enter into their lives. However, neither of us could think of a companion better suited for our child than the other. Gilbert will inherit my estate, and with luck and God’s blessing, Eliza will be there to help guide him in the years to come.”

The earl took a glass of champagne from the table and lifted it into the air. All of the guests followed suit.

“To Gilbert and Eliza.”

“To Gilbert and Eliza!” the crowd echoed, and immediately every assembled guest rushed forward to take Gilbert’s hand, to congratulate him and give him their best wishes. Eliza looked as though she were ready to pummel anyone who came near her, and all the guests were affording her a wide berth.

But no one seemed to register that the look of surprise on Gilbert’s face was not one of stunned joy or excitement. Or even happiness at all.

Ludwig remained rooted to the spot, watching Gilbert struggle to speak and answer every question and congratulations thrown at him, the teasing comments from his relations on how he needn’t be shy obviously falling on deaf ears.

During a momentary lull in the crowd, Gilbert glanced wildly about, his eyes finally catching Ludwig’s once more. The look of helpless desperation made something frantic stir to life inside Ludwig. He found himself taking a small step forward, a surge of anger and protectiveness hijacking his body, tunneling his vision until all he could see was Gilbert, struggling not to cry as well wishers bombarded him and applauded the news that was happy for everyone not involved.

Ludwig pushed aside the first family member when he felt a hand on his arm. He was suddenly yanked backwards and found himself face to face with an irritated Kirkland.

“What in God’s name do you think you are doing?” the man hissed, letting go of Ludwig’s wrist. “Know your place, Mr. Schmidt. The family does not need you now. Step down.”

Ludwig managed to stop himself before he punched Kirkland in the face. He could only nod and stand back to wait, watching the crowd around Gilbert grow thinner and thinner as the guests dispersed and drinks were served.

Ludwig remained standing for a very long time, watching the earl and his sister converse while Gilbert and Eliza cast sidelong glanced at each other, twin looks of misery on their faces.

A strange detachment settled over Ludwig, allowing him to let go of some of the anger he had been bottling up inside.

Why should this mean anything to him? Eliza was still far too young to be married. The families would be waiting at least four years before proper arrangements could begin. This was more of a future proposal. It had nothing to do with him or his employment. In fact it was beneficial if nothing else. Gilbert would inherit the manor and he could stay on as valet. That was all.

He should not have cared. Not in the slightest. Why should this mean anything at all to him? Why should he care? The words ran round and round inside his head, a rusty wheel on an upturned cart.

Ludwig frowned as Gilbert suddenly moved. The young man’s slim fingers scratched at dark eyes as a slight glimmer trailed down his cheek. Eliza rested a comforting hand on her cousin’s back but he pushed her away, burying his face in his hands.

Ludwig felt as though he had been hit by a mortar shell. His legs felt weak, his head rang with the sound of explosive applause, his eyes stung from shrapnel.

Ah, yes.

That was why he cared.


	13. L(a)nterns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh you lucky ducks (ha). looks like my earlier post was a lie.
> 
> alright so i rushed this chapter out pretty fast and i’m going to warn you, it’s so melodramatic i think any writer worth their salt would set it on fire before so much as looking at it. but it’s done and it’s sort of on time so WHATEVER MAN LET THE GOOD TIMES ROLL I GUESS
> 
> YEAH WRITING THESE LONGER CHAPTERS IS SERIOUSLY DAMAGING MY MENTAL HEALTH HOW DO REAL AUTHORS DO THIS I DON’T UNDERSTAND.
> 
> also i thought about making this chapter the last one. it certainly has the potential to be a conclusion but more likely than not i’ll keep writing towards an even better ending. hopefully.

The guests continued to disperse when it became apparent that Gilbert was in no talking mood. Most of the assembled joked that the shock must have gotten to him, but there were several others whose faces betrayed their suspicions.

The staff grew frantically busy getting the food ready to be served. Dining was to be a relatively informal event, with guests picking and choosing whatever they wanted from among the huge spread. Bodies milled about, worker bees, filling glasses and polishing plates and forks and knives and spoons and Ludwig stood in the middle of it all, immobile.  
His chest was lead. It had to be. There was no other substance on earth that could make it so hard to breathe. He barely stirred when Kirkland snapped at him to be useful somehow, and it wasn’t until Mrs. Peeters bodily dragged him out of the path of a couple of the nobles that he came slightly to his senses. The look on Mrs. Peeters face told him to help, and so he wandered over to where Lee and several other footmen were arranging chairs. He automatically began mimicking their actions, allowing himself every now and then to spare a glance Gilbert’s way.

The young lord hadn’t moved other than to lift his head, but Eliza was gone. He was too far away for Ludwig to make out his expression. Lord Horschhorn was talking to him and Gilbert nodded along to whatever he was saying, the Spaniard hovering about him like an excitable moth. Gilbert pushed the other boy away and stood, turning to face his father. Ludwig strained to hear what they were saying but the music and incessant chattering of the guests drowned them out. He went back to his work, and when he looked behind him again, Gilbert and the Spaniard were gone.

Ludwig froze, a horrible paranoia seizing him. Where had they gone? Gilbert was so upset, he wouldn’t want to be alone and that boy seemed all the wrong kind of company… to happy and excitable and physical to calm Gilbert down.

Ludwig’s fingers twitched as he remembered the way Gilbert had rested his head in his hand, the vulnerable look of trust on his face and the need for singular attention in his eyes and now he had gone off with that Spaniard in search of comfort when he needed it the most.

The footmen gave him odd looks when he suddenly dropped the tablecloth and pushed his way through the crowd to leave the tent. A flash of white blonde hair caught his eye, and he began to follow when his senses began to return and his footsteps slowed.

What was he doing? Gilbert could have come found him if he wanted. He could have easily seen him and come to be with him but he had not. What right did he have to chase after the young lord like some paranoid and overprotective brother? Or worse.

As Kirkland’s reedy voice reminded him, none.

Ludwig watched the two disappear over a hill and then made his way back into the tent, resuming his proper job. The one he was actually being paid to perform. Servant’s work. Nothing more.

The sun was low in the sky when the food was finally served, and most of the nonessential staff retreated into the manor or the rest of the grounds. Kirkland and Mrs. Peeters stayed behind, a sure sign that the footmen and maids would be gathering around the back of the manor to smoke in only a few minutes. Several footmen invited Ludwig along but he shook his head to decline, and they did not relish his company enough to put up a fight.

Ludwig wandered through the grounds by himself, listening to the strains of music from the increasingly distant tents. Anyone who could fire him for moving about unaccompanied had their hands full, and for once he felt a slight bit of freedom. He trudged over another hill and sat down on the sunny side, moving carefully so as not to wrinkle or stain his suit. He watched the clouds overhead drown in color, the pure white stained to a dark crimson as the sun sank lower and lower towards the horizon. In the nearby woods he could hear animals stir, preparing for the night vigil.

He let his mind grow blank, forcing it when he had to. It was how things ought to be. This was the natural order and if he had followed Gilbert it would have been an affront to that stability. Farmhands were not instruments of chaos. They were nothing. Even one dressed as ridiculously above his station as he was.

Far-off voices drew alarmingly close, and Ludwig pushed himself up slightly, ready to bolt if they revealed themselves to be anyone of importance. Occupied or no, if Kirkland caught him shirking his duties he was sure to get it later.

Ludwig’s stomach sank when he recognized one of the voices as the Spaniard’s, light and lilting and still somehow full of mirth, and the other was, of course, Gilbert’s. Not nearly as buoyant.

Ludwig remained frozen, unsure which direction the two were approaching from and thus unsure to where he should run. God in heaven even when he had done the right thing and not gone after him he still found himself in this stupidly clichéd predicament.

He let out a sigh of relief when the two voices stopped on the other side of the hill, but groaned when he realized that meant he was trapped. He should do the gentlemanly thing and plug his ears or slowly slink away but curiosity and what he was coming to understand as a dark, unwelcome jealousy kept him listening.

He would go to confession on Sunday.

The two were oddly quiet, speaking in soft whispers even he couldn’t catch for a very long time. Then the slight wind died and their faint voices could be heard.

“ – you’re here. Kirkland would have a fit if he just went running off even if it were at my express wishes.”

“Your staff certainly is nosy. I have caught them gossiping about me and I’ve not even been here a week.”

“I know. The boys don’t help in that regard. Little Rodie is an absolute horror when it comes to the possession of knowledge he ought not to know. And he’s not smart enough to keep his mouth shut when it matters and so the staff gets their fill of ridiculous theories from him and because they are too infantile and stupid to realize that they are in essence trusting a child to be the conveyor of all relevant information it spreads like wildfire until Kirkland or Mrs. Peeters puts a stop to it.”

“Is that why you have yet to sneak into my room? Fear of watchful eyes? Or are you going to try and claim things aren’t as they were?”

Ludwig caught a hint of sadness in Antonio’s voice, and Gilbert’s reply was terse.

“Things were never as you think they were, Antonio. Don’t make me repeat myself. I’ve had enough of you bawling on my shoulder because of misunderstandings than I would like. And we aren’t thirteen any longer. You cannot pass those sorts of things off as boyish affection.”

The two fell silent after that, and just as Ludwig was beginning to wonder if he could sneak away before he heard anything else that would make him want to latch on to every detail, Antonio spoke again.

“I really was deluded. Completely. You are a better actor than you give yourself credit for,” he said, his voice surprisingly bitter.

Gilbert sighed and there came a brief rustling of fabric that Ludwig tried to block out.

“It was never acting. Anyone who knows me half as well can read through my dismal posturing. I cared for you. You were kind to me when no one else was, and it is easy for me to be swept away in kindness and believe things that were not true about myself.”

“Is that what it was. I was too kind?” Antonio laughed, and Ludwig almost felt sorry for the boy, there was so much sadness in the simple noise. “That night I thought we had reached an understanding but you were gone before I could properly apologize and atone. And how can you be sure that this is not more of the same? Just simple kindness deluding you as it did me.”

“I thought we agreed not to discuss that,” Gilbert said a bit harshly, and Ludwig could practically hear Antonio wince.

“We did… I just – I cannot help but pour salt into my own wounds.”

“There is no salt to pour. There is nothing and we are moving on from this topic,” Gilbert muttered, and there came the sound of long fingers viciously ripping chunks of grass from the earth. “Not that it matters. I am more trapped now than ever I was, and not by crucifix and book.”

“Poor Eliza.” Antonio sighed. “Do you think she will ever talk to you again?”

“She was attempting to be sweet when I broke down so pathetically, but I believe that was just the shock moving her to be sympathetic,” said Gilbert. “She’s just a child. What does thirteen know of anything. Only four years my junior but worlds removed. I cannot even begin to imagine what she will be like when she is of marriageable age. Even bossier than she is now, I shouldn’t wonder. And her hair even frizzier.”

Antonio laughed. “She would belt you if she heard you talk like that. I think she will grow up lovely but my eye is a more clinical one than yours.”

“Indeed.”

There came a long pause before Gilbert spoke again, his voice much more subdued.

“But there will never be one truly for me,” he said softly. “If my life is to be dictated, better by the decisions of my parents than my own aberrant heart. Eliza may be the very thing that saves me. Not that she or anyone will ever know.”

“You would live a lie rather than submit to honesty?”

“Honesty has only served to twist reality to meet its needs. I cannot trust honesty no sooner than I could a den of starved lions.”

“Aren’t we dramatic.” Antonio laughed again. “You always did have a flair for these things. Your little sermon on the mounts. It would be quite charming if you focused on different subject matter.”

“I think my own impending damnation is an interesting enough topic to stir the hearts of the masses.”

“Oh Gilbert. You give your own soul far too much credit in terms of popularity.”

There came the sound of a soft impact and then both voices burst into laughter, one far wearier than the other. Suddenly Antonio spoke up again.

“What will you do now? Are you honestly prepared to go through with this?”

“…I have several years. I will accept whatever happens after that.”

Antonio made a frustrated noise. “I never did understand your odd two faced nature when it comes to these sorts of things. One minute class and status are everything to you and the next –”

“Antonio, enough.”

The Spaniard immediately fell silent, and a moment later Gilbert muttered, “I know what you’re doing, and don’t. You’ll just make yourself feel worse. And it isn’t anyone’s business but mine.”

“And his,” Antonio said softly, a hint of wryness in his tone. “If you could not do it for me then I at least ask you for once to bear in mind that the other party is capable of every range of emotion you are.”

“In this case I highly doubt that,” Gilbert muttered, but after a bit there came a soft sigh. “Yes. Yes I know. But it’s so difficult to read and now with the situation with Eliza… I said… I said a few days ago that my whole world has changed and I wish I had waited to speak those lines until a few minutes ago when I finally felt their weight.”

“And tonight you will be repeating that line verbatim, I can guarantee it.”

“Anotnio!”

The Spaniard burst out laughing, and Ludwig could not help but smile to himself as he heard the flustered notes in Gilbert’s voice.

“I told you to mind your own business! You are every bit as bad as the staff.”

There came a rustling noise and the sound of feet sliding down grass, and soon after Antonio must have pushed himself up as well, calling out after Gilbert, “At least you seem in a better mood!”

“Antonio I swear I will end your pathetic little Spanish life if you so much as make a peep!”

Antonio’s laughter faded over the hill, and Ludwig remained where he was for only a few seconds more before standing up and hurrying towards the manor. He felt sick to his stomach at his own cowardice, lying there and spying on words that were clearly not meant for him, but a larger part of him was relieved that Gilbert did not seem to be as devastated as he’d thought.

Although despite his earlier words, the boy was an incredibly good actor. Especially when he felt cornered.

Ludwig shook his head and pushed the thoughts aside. He had tonight. When the rest of the house would be asleep and he could find Gilbert and put words to the vices around his heart. Whatever they might turn out to be.

The party was still in full swing when he returned, and thankfully no one seemed to have noticed his absence. There were couples dancing and others mingling about nibbling on desserts and sipping champagne. Ludwig hung back with the rest of the staff that had gathered to see if they might be allowed to take some of the leftover sweets, watching the dancers to take his mind off of the events of the day. Every time he thought ahead to what he might have to say, if Gilbert would even allow him to speak, his palms grew sweaty and he felt sick. He knew he would have to address it eventually. The inevitability that accompanied the most altering of revelations, but he felt too weary to do so just then. Guilt and a heavy conscious would keep him awake at night, he was sure, but for the moment they lay dormant, pacified by the music and constant stress of the party.

He kept an eye out for Gilbert and Antonio, and it was not long before they made an appearance at the dessert table, talking quietly between themselves. Ludwig remained still, hoping that Gilbert would see him and release him from his status as a mere servant, but the young lord did not seem to notice him, and the two sat down at a table to eat, leaving Ludwig feeling a strange, dull sort of dejection.

The staff began their clean up, moving as quietly and unobtrusively as possible through the guests. Kirkland’s glare gang pressed Ludwig into helping as well, and before he could protest he found himself in the kitchen scraping pots and pans, an apron around his neck and up to his elbows in suds. Had it been any other time he would have been more than a little irritated at the sudden addition to his job description (no matter how temporary) but as it was he was grateful for the distraction and threw himself into his work.

Gilbert had probably forgotten. Those brief moments in the study and beside the canal… what did they mean when he had just been told his life was to change so drastically. Tonight meant nothing.

Ludwig scrubbed the pots until his hands were raw and chapped, and even then he continued to work in the kitchens, helping store the leftover food and lug ice for the ice chests and stash the extra chairs back where they belonged.

He was in the middle of chipping away at a large block of ice when he heard a commotion outside the freezer.

“My lord, what – I beg your pardon but you aren’t allowed—”

“Where is he?”

The sound of Gilbert’s churlish voice nearly made Ludwig drop his ice pick. As it was he had to fumble to regain control of the block before it came crashing down on his foot. Just when he had wrestled it back into position the door opened another crack and Gilbert peered inside.

“There you are,” he said in clear exasperation. “Why on earth are you hiding away in here? Is this some latent desire to become a penguin? I fear I must be the one to inform you that you are neither cute nor tiny enough.”

Ludwig tried to ignore the pleasant clenching in his stomach as Gilbert finally acknowledged him (even if it was merely to mock) and continued working on the ice to distract himself.

“You are letting the cold air out. Either come inside or—”

Gilbert immediately shut the door, and the sounds of the protesting kitchen staff faded to a dull mumble.

Ludwig glanced up in surprise and then quickly looked away, focusing on his work.

Silence fell over the freezer until Gilbert finally said crossly, “You are not acting at all like I imagined you would. Where is the feigned sympathy? Where is your doting concern for the sudden and inexorable turn your master’s life has taken?”

“You are not my master,” Ludwig muttered, risking another glance up at Gilbert who was leaning against the chilled door as though it were an ordinary wall. The young lord looked increasingly put out.

“I searched for you,” said Gilbert accusingly. “Where did you run off to? I had to seek solace in Antonio and he is just the worst at solace. He always tries to steer the conversation to his issues and it is the most annoying and self-absorbed thing and – why are you looking at me like that.”

Ludwig quickly lowered his eyes again and bit his tongue, a small smile on his lips. Now that the stranger was removed from the equation he could admit to himself that he truly was glad to see Gilbert taking the news so well. Or pretending.

“I am just surprised to see you so animated, that is all,” he said quietly, wincing as Gilbert sucked in a sharp breath. The young lord shifted from one foot to another before he sighed.

“I… may be putting on airs. Slightly,” he said quietly.”It does no one any good to see me break down. Not when this is supposed to be a happy occasion. Were it a few months earlier I most likely would not have reacted nearly so spectacularly. Eliza would have punched me instead of treating me like a little glass figurine and nothing in my life would have changed very much at all.”

Ludwig tugged the ice block off its mount and set it in the chest with the others. He brushed shards of ice and frost off of his sleeves, occupying his body to keep his mind silent.

From across the room Gilbert made an irritated noise.

“Say something, farmhand. Pity me, even, or scorn me. I cannot stand this fluctuating indifference.”

Ludwig glanced up at Gilbert, a startled look on his face.

“I am far from indifferent,” he said quietly. “It’s more the opposite that is making me hold my tongue. I can’t trust what it might say.”

Gilbert’s eyebrows raised and he looked pleased for a fleeting moment before the scowl returned.

“Where was that sympathy when I was pouring out my heart? Instead you focused all your attention on some ice and—”

Gilbert suddenly let out a loud sneeze so powerful he staggered backwards and bumped into the wall. Ludwig bit his lip to keep from laughing and fished a handkerchief out of his pocket, holding it out to the young lord.

“I suggest we take this conversation some place where you won’t catch your death of cold,” he said softly, and Gilbert nodded, already fumbling for the door handle.

“I’ve never been in this room,” he mumbled, still blowing his nose as he took one last look around. “It has so much potential and—”

He sneezed again, and with a quiet sigh Ludwig pushed open the door and ushered the young lord out.

He froze the moment the door shut behind him. Half the staff was gathered in the kitchen, each with a slightly guilty look on his or her face and hands that pretended to be busy with whatever work was close by.

A dark scowl stole over Ludwig’s face at that, and he met one of the girls’ – Sophia’s, if he remembered correctly – eyes dead on.

“May we help you?”

Gilbert flashed him an amused smile but for once said nothing, too preoccupied with blowing his nose and rubbing his fingers together. He looked like a little evil dictator with a head cold.

Sophia let out a little squeak and hid behind her sister, a tall, pale woman Ludwig had had the misfortune of crossing only once. Her name escaped him, but she was one of the few who did not look outright embarrassed.

“That is an awfully long time to spend carving ice,” she said softly, her blue eyes flicking to fix on Gilbert for a moment before she added, “My lord.”

Gilbert shrugged and waved his hand dismissively.

“I imagine that is because my valet is unused to the menial labor we normally reserve for the rest of you who have fewer social graces and talents to spare upstairs. Move, and let us pass.”

The pale girl tensed but bowed her head politely and turned to make her leave, her sister clinging to her apron strings. The rest of the staff slowly dispersed, but not without casting a few curious looks towards the freezer door.

Ludwig shook his head and muttered, “What on earth was that about?” as he headed towards the stairs.

“Carrion attempting to waylay raptors,” said Gilbert, pushing his way past Ludwig to lead them. “I would call them vultures that feast upon carrion but I believe that is giving them too much credit. I imagine they were hoping to make themselves privy to some sort of scandal, and I love to disappoint them.”

“I see,” said Ludwig, a troubled frown on his face. “Would it not be best to discourage them completely?”

“Let them have their fun. Until their flapping jaws reach my father’s ears I could not care less,” Gilbert said, making his way into the manor proper and out into the grounds again, Ludwig trailing behind him.

There were only a few guests left, mostly Gilbert’s relatives who were to spend the night at the manor. Eliza was dancing with her father, standing on his feet and letting him carry her around. It was a darling sight, and Ludwig stopped a moment to watch them, a small smile on his face. Eliza looked happy and was laughing brightly, her earlier trauma seemingly forgotten. Children recovered easily.

Ludwig turned to Gilbert, ready to ask where exactly he was taking them, when the look on the young lord’s face gave him pause. Gilbert was watching the pair as well, his red eyes narrowed and his lips pressed in a thin line. It took Ludwig a moment to realize that Gilbert’s breathing was uneven and jagged, and he immediately rested his hand on the young lord’s shoulder and gently guided him down the stairs.

“Breathe, Gilbert,” he said quietly, pulling away once they left the relative safety of the side stairs.

Gilbert gave a sharp nod and let out an unsteady breath before he muttered, “It’s unsettling to see her in such a new light. I don’t like it.”

Ludwig held his tongue and continued to follow Gilbert as the young lord moved through the few circles of people that remained, returning the smiles offered him and laughing at all the well wishes. Never once did he say thank you.

Soon they were past the tents and Gilbert jogged up a hill, waiting at the top for Ludwig to catch up. Ludwig took the incline slowly, exhausted from the relatively intense manual labor he had been subjecting himself to for the past several hours. The sun was a pink dusting over the trees and the first stars were beginning to shine overhead. An unusually clear night.

Gilbert shifted about impatiently like a dog preparing to lunge at the sound of the hunting horn, his red eyes fixated on the horizon. The light slowly left the trees, and when the last of twilight bled away he turned to stare up at Ludwig in the dark.

“It’s tonight,” he said, his voice barely masking an eager cadence to the words.

“So it is,” Ludwig quietly replied, the slither of guilt awakening in him making the words difficult to say. Gilbert flashed him a grin, his teeth a white streak in the growing dark, and then said, “Follow me.”

He raced down the hill towards the woods at the edge of the grounds and Ludwig hurried after him, sliding on the dewy grass in his haste. Gilbert stuck to the wall, not crossing over completely into the woods, although every now and then he cast them a longing glance. Abruptly he stopped and gave Ludwig an odd look.

“You still follow me like a shadow even when no one else is around,” he said, sounding slightly amused.

“Habit,” Ludwig said quietly, catching his breath. “And won’t someone come looking for you?” This is risky to the point of stupidity, was implied.

Gilbert shook his head and tugged on Ludwig’s sleeve so that the man was forced to walk next to him.

“They know better than to come fetch me when they have betrayed my trust to this extent,” he said, his lips quirking up into a sardonic smile barely visible in the dim light. “Ironically it is only after they have placed incredible amounts of pressure on me that they leave me be. What irresponsible parenting.”

“I suppose when you are a parent of your own you can learn from their mistakes,” Ludwig said, starting a bit when Gilbert burst into vicious laughter.

“Oh no. Oh Lord no that will never, ever be an issue,” he said, making a face. “I know I would be the worst sort of parent. Any child of mine would grow up resenting and hating me and even if I were not concerned with their own well being any further rejection by my blood and kin would injure me beyond repair.”

Some of the intense pressure left Ludwig’s chest and he could not keep from smiling.

“Is that so,” he said quietly, wincing as Gilbert’s elbow met his ribs.

“And why on earth does that make you sound so elated? “Gilbert asked, but there was a smile playing about his lips that indicated that he had already guessed at the answer. Ludwig felt his cheeks color but all he said was a well-mannered, “I am simply grateful that you have the foresight to not impose your personality on any more impressionable youth. Especially, heaven forbid, your own.”

“You are a cruel, cruel man. I should have kept you locked in that ice box to freeze and achieve your penguin dreams. I am not callous to the core. Unlike you,” Gilbert grumbled, tugging on Ludwig’s sleeve again to bring him towards the fence. He boosted himself up and over it before offering Ludwig his hand, an impish grin on his face.

“I am assuming you need help lugging that immense frame of yours more than a foot in the air.”

Ludwig rolled his eyes and batted Gilbert’s hand away before jumping the fence, landing as gracefully as a man of his size could. Gilbert raised an eyebrow and said lightly, “Impressive.”

He fished about in his pocket and then pressed a small jar into Ludwig’s hand.

“Take this. We’re going hunting.”

Ludwig held up the small jar, a bemused look on his face.

“Hunting?”

Gilbert nodded and pulled another jar out for himself before heading deeper into the woods, stepping carefully.

“You’ll see.”

Ludwig hid his reservations and followed Gilbert, stumbling over broken branches and stubborn roots more times than he would have liked. The moon was glowing bright in the darkened sky, casting everything into odd, silver shadows. Gilbert’s hair caught the light, and it was the only thing that kept Ludwig from losing him in the dark.

Suddenly Gilbert stopped and crouched down, gesturing for Ludwig to join him. Ludwig did so, his brows furrowing when he saw Gilbert scoop a tiny glowworm into his jar and reseal it.

“…We are hunting…”

“These,” Gilbert said triumphantly, holding up the jar. The little worm inside continued to emit a faint glow. Gilbert pushed against Ludwig’s shoulder.

“Go on. They’ll be lighting the lamps along the drive soon and I would rather not be found out here up to my knees in briars like a child. Fill your jar and then meet me back at the gate.”

Ludwig could only do as he was told, and as he gently coaxed worm after worm into the jar he wondered what the driving emotion behind his loyalty truly was. Had anyone else asked him to risk injury crawling about the woods at night searching for bugs he would have turned around and headed straight home.

Clearly he was an idiot.

Between the trees he could make out the dim glow of the lanterns that lit the path towards the manor, and he used them as a guide to make his way back to the fence. His jar was full of the little bugs and emitted a soft glow in his palm. He found where they had jumped over by virtue of the scuffed paint Gilbert had left behind, and sat atop the fence, toying with the small jar in his hand.

After only a few minutes of waiting, soft curses and the sound of broken branches signaled Gilbert’s return. The young lord pushed himself up and jumped over the fence, taking a moment to catch his breath before he glanced up at Ludwig, his smile visible in the bright moonlight.

“Success?”

Ludwig held out his jar and Gilbert made an impressed noise.

“Perfect. Follow me.”

Ludwig obediently hopped off the fence and followed Gilbert, sticking to the young lord’s side.

“It isn’t often that I question your sanity, but what exactly are the bugs for?” he asked dryly and was rewarded with a little flick to his ear.

“Patience. Do they not teach that anymore at valet school?”

“Having never attended, your speculation is as good as mine.”

Gilbert laughed and then said lightly, “True, true.”

They walked in silence for a few minutes, and soon recognizable features came into view. Ludwig frowned and cast Gilbert an odd look, but the young lord seemed preoccupied, an uncharacteristically serious look on his face.

The orchard loomed before them, its fruit and blossoms long departed, but its branches full of wide, silvered leaves. Gilbert ducked through the trees and stopped in the very middle of the small orchard before taking out his own jar and letting it rest on the ground. He twisted off the cap and crouched down, watching as one by one the bugs made a daring yet slow bid for freedom.

“Keep yours closed, Ludwig,” he murmured as Ludwig sat down next to him. “I want to see which ones glow brighter.”

Ludwig nodded and set his jar next to Gilbert’s, watching the little pinpricks of light disseminating from the glass jar, his own glowing a dull blue. In the bit of moonlight that pierced the trees he could see Gilbert’s face clearly. The young lord had his knees drawn to his chest, his chin propped atop them and a pensive look on his face.

Guilt tugged at Ludwig’s chest once more, and he finally took it upon himself to break the silence.

“I heard you and Antonio speaking today. On the hill.”

Gilbert’s shoulders tensed slightly, but after a moment he let out a tired sigh.

“Did you now. Well that’s… not as much of a surprise as it should be. Fate does seem to enjoy manipulating the various players in my life to ensure my inevitable doom.”

“You aren’t angry, then?”

“No,” Gilbert said softly, closing his eyes. “No I’m… I’m not angry. As best I can recall, I did not say anything that I would not have said to you eventually. Although I am… wary of how certain revelations might warp your idea of me.”

“Not warped,” Ludwig said, resting back on his hands and glancing up at the trees, mapping the few stars he could see peeking through the leaves. “Although my opinion of him remains negative as ever, through no fault of his own.”

He could hear Gilbert’s brain puzzling that out before it seemed to click. The young lord moved closer to him and said in a quiet, sing song voice, “You were jealous.”

Ludwig could feel his cheeks coloring and was thankful that most of the light was filtered through the treetops, but still he forced himself to be honest.

“It took me a long time to place the feeling but… yes, I believe I… I was,” he said softly. “But more than that I was horribly worried. When the earl made that announcement you looked so utterly devastated and yet you went and found solace in your… your childhood friend whom you have known far long than you have known me and I sound like a complete prat.”

“A bit,” Gilbert agreed, gently urging on a slow worm with his fingertip. He stood up, grabbing his jar and Ludwig’s and then with a little jump scrambled up into the trees. Ludwig watched the dark outline scurry about, trying to keep his own anxiety under control. The jars were slowly lowered to hover just over Ludwig’s head, both of them open. The bugs had just started to crawl up the strings to freedom when Gilbert fell back to the ground with a quiet ‘oof.’ He moved back to Ludwig’s side, rubbing his back and staring up at the two makeshift lanterns hanging above them.

“Look how pretty,” he said quietly. “Nature is horrifying in a way but if you forget for a moment that each one of those little lights has terrifying looking mouth they are quite lovely.”

“They are,” Ludwig said, his gaze shifting to fix on Gilbert, watching the odd light dance across his features. “Very lovely.”

They sat in comfortable silence before Gilbert spoke again.

“I am devastated,” he said, as though he were discussing an interesting article in the Times. “Every childish antic you now see is a game ploy to distract myself to keep from losing all semblance of control over my emotions. Eliza is like a sister to me. She is a child and to think that our parents would force both of us to so radically alter our view of the other makes me more enraged than I thought possible. She cannot understand now why I am so upset, and she may never. People enter and exit her life and she thinks nothing of them. To be permanently tied to me would affect her no more than tying a piece of string around a bird’s leg would keep it from flying. She would never care for me in the singular way I wish and I could never care for her in any capacity above that of brotherly affection.” His lips twisted into a bitter smile and he glanced at Ludwig.

“And you know why that is, don’t you,” he said softly, his voice dull and lifeless. “I am broken. I could never be the man she deserves. No more than I could be a true friend to Antonio or merely an employer to you. No matter how I might try.”

Ludwig’s heart ached for the young lord, and he rested his arm across the other man’s shoulders, allowing him to move closer under the pretext of being pulled if he wished. After only a moment Gilbert did so, moving until he was pressed flush against Ludwig’s side. Ludwig’s breath caught in his throat, but he tempered the twisted nerves under his skin and closed his eyes, the glow from the lanterns above still burning them.

“What would you be for me instead?” he asked quietly.

Gilbert shifted ever so slightly, and Ludwig bit his lip as a slim hand rested atop his knee.

“I’m not sure,” he said, his voice betraying a caged nervousness. “A… a friend. I suppose. If you’d have me as one.”

“A friend,” Ludwig repeated softly. A sick disappointment took hold of him and he berated himself, pulling a bit away from Gilbert. A friend. What more could he possibly have asked of the boy? Gilbert was young and vulnerable and sequestered away from what the rest of the world would have thought of him. He did not have to deal with any consequences but the intangible, and it had made him too bold and too naive. Ludwig should have discouraged this from the outset, the budding affection that he was too terrified to put any sort of name to. The kinds of names the men in the trenches had whispered to each other at night when two would go off alone and return later with shame on their faces and muddied knees.

Back then Ludwig had been naive. He hadn’t understood the names, hadn’t cared to. He had acted indifferent to humanity and all it had to offer, and it wasn’t hard, cut off from it by barbed wire and claps of artificial thunder like Gilbert was now by topiary and ornate glass windows. But while others had cradled pictures of wives and girlfriends in the dead of night Ludwig had had lain awake putting together the pieces of his own damaged psyche, struggling to arrange them in an order that he could present to the rest of the world without showing the dirt on his knees. When the war had ended and he had returned, that affected indifference had remained as a shield against what misery life had left for him until it became genuine. Affections and their ilk were foreign and cast aside, their shapes unrecognizable to him with his carefully constructed shell.

No one would ever have to know that he envied those men that left together and returned with shame on their faces. At least they had acted before they were to die.

And yet after years of resolve and silence here he was allowing someone else to put things back in their original order. Where they had been slipping for the past few months. Apples perched on the edge of a gentle hill that only required the slightest nudge before they rolled into place and formed a minotaur’s maze. He would be damned and so would Gilbert. Trapped. And it was time he recognized that.

“Ludwig?”

Ludwig blinked, startled out of his depressive thoughts by Gilbert’s voice. He glanced down at the young lord, his stomach sinking when he recognized the look on his face. The same one he had worn earlier when his father had announced his engagement.

Betrayal.

“My apologies. I’m still here,” he said quietly, tensing when Gilbert moved cautiously close again.

“Good God man, don’t do that,” Gilbert mumbled, pressing a hand against his face. “I take my eyes off of you for a second and you are miles away and nigh unreachable.”

“Again, I am sorry,” said Ludwig, watching several of the bugs lose their grip on the string and plummet to the earth. “I didn’t mean to drift.”

“You’re forgiven, I suppose. Provided you tell me what you were thinking,” Gilbert said softly, his eyes slipping shut.

Ludwig made a quiet noise of irritation and fell silent for a long time before he muttered, “The war, mostly. If ever I fall comatose like that the war is usually what I have stumbled upon again while attempting to make sense of a current situation or emotion.”

“…I see,” Gilbert said slowly, and Ludwig could hear the confusion in his voice. “So being like this with me makes you remember the war? Am I really that traumatizing?” He laughed, but the noise was weak.

Ludwig’s hand tightened on Gilbert’s shoulder and he said very quietly, “In a way.”

Gilbert’s laughter trailed off and before long silence settled over them again, uncomfortable and unwelcome this time. All the plans that Ludwig had been making throughout the course of the day, what he’d wanted to say so badly only a few hours ago now felt cheap and manipulative. Gilbert did not know what he was doing. He could not know. Rumors and gentle touches to cheeks were one thing, but if he had any idea the monsters lurking trapped in the constructed maze he would have fled long ago. Of that Ludwig was certain. Gilbert appeared devilish on the outside, omniscient like a pagan trickster god but underneath everything he was just a boy who cried when his father said he was to marry his cousin.

“Ludwig.”

There came a sharp tug to his ear and Ludwig muttered ‘ow’ and batted at Gilbert’s hand.

“What?” he asked crossly, not wanting to risk looking at Gilbert’s face for fear it might weaken him again.

“…You said you would stay with me. Stop wandering off by yourself,” Gilbert mumbled, pressing his face against Ludwig’s shoulder. “At least take me with you…”

Ludwig bowed his head, watching the worms slither away through the grass.

“Sorry.”

“You always say sorry but you hardly ever actually mean it,” Gilbert said bitterly and then fell quiet for a very long time. The moon rose higher overhead, and one by one the bugs continued to climb up into the trees or fall to their death.

“I have a confession to make.”

Ludwig shook himself out of his depression and glanced down at Gilbert. All he could see was the top of the young lord’s head, but his voice and the tension in his shoulders gave him away.

“You could save it for a priest,” he said quietly, his stomach sinking. “Or someone more qualified.”

Gilbert shook his head and sat up, his hair wild and expression haggard as he caught Ludwig’s eyes, his own reflecting the moonlight and making him look otherworldly.

“There is no one else more qualified,” he said softly. “And I may be deluding myself beyond salvation but if I am not then I don’t… I am tired of feeling lost, Ludwig. And I know… I know from how you look at me when you think I won’t notice and how your jealousy and possessiveness can blind you and the way you touched my hand and brushed my hair that you must be tired of it too. You must be…”

Ludwig stiffened and pulled away, near panic seizing him and telling him to leave. To change his mind and abandon the orchard and the small paradise here, for it would be safer to do so than stay and accept the knowledge being offered him.

Temptation stayed his limbs, and he remained still before asking quietly, “What is it?”

Gilbert sat back on his heels, his face pale and his long fingers digging into the grass. He tilted his head back, the moonlight catching the sharp edges of his cheekbones and jaw, throwing his face into stark relief.

“Close your eyes. I can’t… I can’t speak with you looking at me like that. Like a beaten dog, it makes me too sad.”

Ludwig followed the order, his heart hammering in his chest when he heard Gilbert move. A timid hand rested on the back of his neck and petal soft lips brushed against his cheek. The affection was still friendly, brotherly, but there was a question in the way Gilbert’s touch lingered slightly too long, his voice much too close.

“I doubt you’ve been able to fully put the pieces together… being the thick headed farmhand you are,” he said quietly, and Ludwig opened his eyes to give the young lord a warning glare, but his irritation died an untimely death when his eyes rested on Gilbert. The other man was so close, pale lashes hiding his eyes and a soft glow from the hanging jars making him look like a fey creature.

Gilbert’s lips quirked into a nervous smile and he threaded his fingers through Ludwig’s hair, drawing him near until their noses touched. Ludwig had never felt so elatedly helpless in his life, his thoughts muzzled from pure shock. His hands moved against his will to rest against the small of Gilbert’s back, fingers pressed against the delicate curve of his spine.

Gilbert’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, and the orchard bent its branches to keep quiet his words.

“Ludwig… in all my selfish years I have never wanted anything as much as I want you,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper as it trembled. “And I thought… I thought for a brief, egotistical moment that you might feel the same. So please if you don’t… then just let me have this? Just for a moment I’d like to pretend that something in my world is as I wish it could be. Something without the threat of a lonesome eternity waiting for me when I breathe my last…”

Ludwig closed his eyes, the lithe frame in his arms shaking as he pulled Gilbert against him. He was weak to the younger man’s words. It would have been easy to release him. Let go and smash the jars against the trees and stay alone like he had always been and thought he would need to remain. It would be the smarter decision. Best for both of them.

What could save them and preserve the paradise. Caged and dispassionate though it was.

But Ludwig was weak to the ephemeral. And he was so, so tired of being lost alone.

He gently grasped Gilbert’s chin, tilting the younger man’s head to brush his lips reverently against his lord’s. He heard Gilbert gasp with surprise, felt soft lips move against his own and bony wrists rest against his shoulders.

The string holding one of the jars snapped, and the glass came plummeting to shatter against the ground, and still Ludwig kissed Gilbert, feeling at last the lead in his chest give way.

He could finally breathe free.

Banished from paradise.


	14. Emp(a)thy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright so because of various real life things this chapter is pretty late and it’s also more of a transition chapter than anything. updates will probably continue to be slower until i’m done with thesis edits this round. real life, man. why you gotta be how you are.
> 
> as always thanks so much for reading! you guys are A+.

It was black as pitch by the time they made their way back to the manor. All that remained of the tents were several holes in the ground, which Ludwig did not discover until he stepped in one and nearly broke his ankle. Gilbert had laughed at that, the noise giddy and wild and nervous and yet Ludwig did not have the heart to quiet him. The whole way back Gilbert had stolen furtive touches to his wrist and arm, and the moonlight caught the look of terrified joy on the young lord’s face as he smiled and cast little shy glances up at Ludwig. Ludwig couldn’t help but return them, his lips still sparking from that brief moment of contact under the apple trees.  
Light from the manor windows spilled out onto the grass and the marble steps, and Ludwig stopped just shy of the yellow glow, the tips of his shoes still in shadow. Gilbert stopped next to him, blinking owlishly as he craned his neck to try and peer through the windows.

They had both been completely silent the entire way back, and Ludwig could only assume it was nervousness on Gilbert’s part as well that was staying his tongue. The orchard seemed distant, a foggy island Ludwig was afraid to swim towards and explore. Gilbert’s quiet voice asking so many questions that he had not a single answer to. Silence and a soft brush of fingers against soft skin had been all that he could manage, and even then, standing in front of the manor with only the thought of what he had done to preoccupy him, Ludwig still felt adrift. But it wasn’t the unpleasant sort of lost that had nearly drowned him before. This was buoyant and playful and yet he could still feel the danger the altitude promised. He simply chose in that moment not to look down.

The sound of laughter and piano playing drifted from an open window, and Ludwig could hear Eliza’s sparkling laughter and the Earl’s booming voice as they attempted to sing along. The party had continued without them, and Ludwig could not be more grateful. Normalcy was what they needed to mask every little grass stain on their clothes and the flush that had taken hold of their cheeks.

A slight rustling to his right prompted Ludwig to glance down at the young lord, and he was greeted to a nervous smile and wide, red eyes.

“I am horrible at acting,” Gilbert said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “They will see through me in a second, I just know it…”

“You little liar,” Ludwig said, a wry look on his face. “You are the best actor I know and I am sure you will charm them to the point where any damning questions they have will be forgotten in an instant.”

Gilbert laughed, the noise far more unsteady than it had been before.

“I suppose you would know, wouldn’t you. Stuck with me as you’ve been,” he murmured absently, standing on tip-toe to attempt once more peek into the room as best he could. “Blast, I can’t see a damn thing… Can you, Goliath?”

Ludwig shook his head and murmured back, “Not much more than you can, David. Although I suggest we dispense with the Biblical nicknames and head inside. No good will come of us loitering out here like men shuffling their way down a back alley and trying to look discreet.”

“Is that what I am to you? A back alley aficionado?”

Gilbert’s teasing voice sounded mildly injured all the same, and Ludwig was at a loss for words for a long moment before he mumbled, “I don’t know what you are, and answering that question will most likely require a good deal more self-introspection and long, brooding walks to clear my head.” He tensed as his side grew warm from Gilbert’s body pressing slightly against his, and when the young lord spoke Ludwig closed his eyes, not wanting to risk looking at him. He was sure his nerves would take hold of him and spill every last thought that crossed his mind.

“Is that why you were so quiet after—afterwards?” Gilbert asked softly, his voice so full of disappointment and heartbreak Ludwig immediately felt a monstrous spike of guilt pierce him. “You left me so confused and happy and yet you seemed so sure of yourself that I could not help but trust you. That you thought of me the same although you could not voice it –”

“I do,” Ludwig said quickly, unable to bear any longer the sound of Gilbert’s pained confusion. “I do. At least I think…”

“…You are not exactly inspiring confidence, farmhand. Which is it?” Gilbert deadpanned, clearly trying to hide his hurt.

Ludwig groaned quietly and pressed a hand against his face, some of the panic he had been skillfully repressing for some time bubbling back up to the surface to mingle with all of the other little nasties resting in his subconscious and waiting for him to let down his guard.

“I am at heart a man of action and not word, Gilbert,” he said quietly. “Trust in my actions if you cannot bring yourself to trust anything else. I would not blithely indulge in such a risky endeavor.”

“…Very well,” said Gilbert, and it was clear from his voice that he was sulking slightly, even if Ludwig could not see him. “Then you may have to indulge me with more actions before that trust can be won. You are not the only one at risk, farmhand, and of the two of us I have far more to lose should more than glowworms shed their light upon what transpired.”

“I understand,” Ludwig said quietly, finally opening his eyes and resting his hand cautiously upon Gilbert’s shoulder, unsure if the gesture would be appreciated so close to an open wound. Gilbert stiffened, but did not fight the touch, and after a moment he smiled up at Ludwig, his eyes tired.

“Today has been very confusing,” he said, leaning his head against Ludwig’s arm. “I would very much like for it to be over and all of this muddy business clarified tomorrow. For the record.”

“I will do my best,” said Ludwig. Clarified. Actions would not suffice then. He would have to stop hiding behind them and force himself to put a name to things…

A sharp noise from above made the two quickly part just before Eliza stuck her head out of the window and peered down at them.

“Mr. Schmidt! Gilbert! Auntie Lisa wants you to come inside now and stop being irresponsible!”

Gilbert scowled but called up, “We will be there shortly, no need to yell!”

Eliza stuck out her tongue and retreated back inside, a roar of laughter following her disappearance.

Gilbert let out a heavy sigh and hung his head.

“What would I give to have a peasant’s house that provided some modicum of privacy,” he grumbled. “I should follow in the good Antoinette’s footsteps and order a small fake village constructed for myself, filled with empty houses and chickens. Only chickens. You could come visit too, I suppose. As long as you helped me tend to the chickens and did not tell anyone else were my secret villa is hidden.”

“I would not recommend following in her footsteps too closely, unless you would like to meet her end as well,” Ludwig gently teased, although the thought of heading back inside with so many prying eyes and flapping lips made him nearly sick with worry. The staff already had their suspicions, if their odd behavior in the kitchen was anything to go by. Now that there was actually a secret to be kept he dreaded to think of the ruin it could cause them should some overly inquisitive soul pry too deep. Even though he wasn’t entirely sure what the secret itself comprised…

Gilbert flashed him a startled smile, his red eyes lighting up.

“I forgot how educated you are. The clothes… they tend to throw me,” he said lightly, laughing when Ludwig gently shoved him. The young lord took a few tentative steps towards the staircase and then finally seemed to resign himself to his fate. He trudged up them one by one, Ludwig following at a polite distance.

The manor proper was well lit with both candles and the newly installed overhead electric lights (newly being nearly a decade ago by then, but the staff still talked about them as though they were a grand new invention), creating a warm inviting glow that Gilbert seemed to take a personal offense to as he glared and scowled and stormed down the hallway like a small child in a tantrum. He led them into the music room where the extended family was gathered, and it was not until Ludwig caught sight of Eliza’s mother and father seated on one of the couches that he remembered the initial cause of Gilbert’s panic today. The engagement had completely fled his mind, buried underneath more pressing concerns.

Another thing to clarify tomorrow. The list continued to grow.

Outwardly Gilbert did not react at all to the presence of his family and fiancé, and merely took his place in a chaise lounge that ran along the window. Ludwig stood awkwardly by, noting the absence of other staff in the room. Gilbert seemed to take notice of his uncomfortable position, and with a little wave of his hand bade him closer.

“You play the piano, yes?” he asked, his voice barely audible above the duet Vash and Eliza were playing. The other family members cast him odd looks, but their attention was soon averted when Vash hit a wrong note and let out a loud curse of frustration.

Ludwig shook his head and said softly, “I have some mild familiarity with the cello, through an odd act of providence, but nothing more.”

Gilbert clicked his tongue in disappointment, his red eyes drifting up to stare idly at the gilded ceiling.

“Then you will be useless here. You may retire to your room until I ring for you to help with the usual night routine. I imagine there are some sweets left over from the party quickly being devoured by the gluttons in the downstairs rooms. Feel free to help yourself.”

Ludwig gave a polite bow, doing his best to ignore the unpleasant cold feeling seeping through him at Gilbert’s dismissive attitude. He had not been lying when he had said earlier that the boy was a talented actor. The way he could switch his moods so abruptly, from doting to distant in the blink of an eye was startling and now upsetting in a new unpleasant and angry way it hadn’t been before.

“Very good, my lord. Thank you,” Ludwig said quietly, turning to leave. He caught Lady Horschhorn smiling at him, and he did his best to return it as he all but fled the room. He shut the door to the parlor behind him and took a moment to compose himself. He was sure his face was both ashen and beet red in a kind of horrible contradiction and he had no desire to face the rest of the staff so compromised.

Once calm, he quickly made his way to the staff rooms, ignoring all inquisitive glances cast his way. It was far past the normal time for the footmen and lower staff to be retired to their rooms, but the hustle and bustle of the party and the plethora of discarded alcohol and sweets and breads leftover had caused a large crowd to gather in the kitchen. Several of the staff were playing cards, and Ludwig did his best to be unobtrusive as he gathered some things from the sideboard that was practically groaning under the weight of all the food. He knew that when Gilbert had asked him to ‘help himself,’ the young lord had really been requesting that he bring something to his room that night. The code was crude and simple but Gilbert’s strict mother and the even stricter Kirkland had yet to catch on.

“Hey, Schmidt. Where’d you get to? We could’ve used you to help finish bringin’ down the tents.”

Ludwig glanced over his shoulder as he was addressed, the voice belonging to the rather surly footman Lee was always hanging around. The man’s dark completion and crooked nose hinted at some sort of Bohemian heritage, and Ludwig had always done his best to avoid the man. He looked as though he had a temper. His name escaped him at the moment. Alex or Andrei or something to that effect. The lower staff were always addressed by their Christian names, the upper by their surnames. It made things rather confusing for Ludwig, and so he usually chose not to pay any attention at all.

“Lord Gilbert required my presence,” he said, straightening up and giving the man a cool stare. “And I did my job by attending him. My help in the kitchens and elsewhere is secondary.”

The footman held up his hands, his odd yellowish eyes peering at Ludwig from over a candle.

“Of course, of course. Didn’t mean to pry,” he said lightly, kicking out a chair. “Here. Have a seat.”

“I would rather not, if it’s all the same to you,” Ludwig said stiffly, but the man snorted in response.

“Sit. You’ve been here long enough that you only minglin’ with the upstairs is startin’ to raise some eyebrows. Easiest way to lower them’s to get to know everyone, yeah?”

Ludwig pressed his lips in a thin line, but the man did have a point. And Gilbert would ring soon to rescue him, of that he was certain. So with a reluctant sigh he sat down, setting aside the food he had wrapped in a handkerchief for Gilbert.

The man’s eyes brightened, and Lee, who was sitting next to him, clapped him on the shoulder.

“Great! We have enough to get another game going,” Lee said cheerfully, elbowing Ludwig’s side. “What’s your pleasure?”

“I’m not overly familiar with cards and other gambling,” Ludwig muttered, crossing his arms over his chest, to which the rest of the men chuckled and exchanged looks.

“Well someone is looking to get into the righteous Earl’s favor,” the first man drawled, shuffling the cards. “Not that I can blame you. He’s a good man, if you manage to stay in his graces. ‘Course, I’ve been in his graces for years and look where it’s gotten me. Still a footman. Passed over for some hay slinging farm worker.”

He flashed a crooked grin at Ludwig.

“No resentment, though. I’d rather be a footman than at the beck and call of Lord Gilbert. Anyone here would.”

All the men nodded in agreement, and one of the women leaning against the wall said softly, “Is that why you broke the Earl’s favorite glass, Alex? Your lack of resentment?”

The man tensed and shot the woman a look. Ludwig recognized her as the cold blonde maid from before. The one who had so boldly questioned him and Gilbert when they’d left the freezer room. Her blue eyes were staring at him, and after only a moment he had to look away.

“It’s none of your business, Bela,” Alex growled. “Shut your mouth and stay where you belong.”

“Now, now. We’re all friends here,” Lee said mildly, but there was an undercurrent of warning to his tone. “Just deal the cards, Alex. Bela, you should know better than to bring up old wounds.”

Bela merely pursed her lips and took a sip from the drink she was holding.

Ludwig remained silent and still as the cards were dealt and the rules explained in gruff, snappish tones. It was a game he had some mild familiarity with from his days in the reserve, but he had never been one to remember the nuances of card tricks.

They played a few hands in silence, Alex and Lee winning equally until suddenly Alex spoke up again.

“So you know that Spaniard that’s visiting? Lord Gilbert’s friend?”

All at the table nodded and cast Alex eager looks. The man puffed up a bit at the attention and then lowered his voice. Bela leaned in from her place in the shadows, her blue eyes bright with interest.

“I heard one of his valets say that he’s only here ‘cause he begged and pleaded with Lord Gilbert to be allowed to attend,” he said in a hushed voice. “Now why do you think that is? Haven’t seen each other since their school days and yet he’s so eager to get himself over here? And requested a room in the family’s side of the house, near Gilbert’s?”

Ludwig’s fingers tightened on his cards slightly, but he played his hand with a blank expression.

The other men shifted uncomfortably, but the curious gleam to their eyes never faded. One of the others piped up.

“I saw the two of them leave together after the engagement was announced. Lord Gilbert looked broke up about it but the Spaniard looked devastated. Unnaturally so, if you ask me.”

“Well no one is asking you,” Ludwig suddenly snapped, his temper quickly flaring from nervousness. “And it is this type of rumor mongering that causes the upstairs to question their hiring practices.”

The table instantly fell silent, but every eye was now trained on Ludwig, several of them narrowing in growing suspicion.

“…What do you know, Schmidt?” Alex finally asked, his voice like honey behind his slightly pointed teeth. “Lord Gilbert must confide in you, you being his valet and all…”

“Confide is the operative word there,” Ludwig muttered, setting down his cards to hide the slight trembling of his hand. “If Lord Gilbert were to tell me anything it would be in confidence. Unfortunately for you gentleman, I know when to hold my tongue about my employers and things that do not concern me.”

Alex laughed and Lee shot Ludwig a slightly uneasy look.

“That’s better than not having said anything at all,” Alex said jeeringly, leaning across the table to catch Ludwig’s eye. “So it’s true, then? About their sick experimentations? When Lord Gilbert was suddenly pulled out of that school we all had to wonder if it was because of his little inclinations, if you catch my drift.”

“I do not know exactly what you have heard, but it is not your place to even wonder about it,” Ludwig snapped, his temper quickly rising again. “He is a good friend to the son of your employer and as far as I or anyone else knows that is all. These perversions that you speak of are nothing more than a wicked lie thought up to provide some semblance of entertainment to the downstairs. You would do well not to let your mouth get the better of you.”

The lie burned his throat, but what else could he say? He himself did not even know the true nature of Gilbert’s inclinations or his relationship with Antonio, although their actions did not make it hard to guess at a quiet intimacy that only the two of them knew. And after what had happened in the orchard, Ludwig’s doubts about Gilbert’s true nature had been proved undeniably true. But what could he do but lie.

Alex’s eyes narrowed in anger, but he sat back in his seat, regarding Ludwig with a cool stare.

“You are quick to jump to his defense,” he muttered darkly. “Did he order you to silence, Schmidt? Or did you just enjoy watching them so much you –”

“Alex, enough,” Lee said sharply, pushing himself up. “Kirkland’s going to be back any second and if he hears you trying to pick another fight you’ll be out on your arse in the street before you can so much as steal another bottle of wine.” He glanced at Ludwig, an apologetic look on his face.

“Sorry about that, Schmidt. Not many here like Lord Gilbert and his personality invites rumors, so…”

Ludwig stood as well, a furious look on his face.

“See to it next time that these rumors are kept far out of earshot from me,” he snapped. “I do not care if it shines suspicion upon me, I will not stand for this sort of behavior.”

“Oh give it a rest, Schmidt, the rumors are already there and growing,” Alex sneered from across the table. “Nothing stays secret in this house and I cannot wait for the day when someone sees through that phony God-fearing exterior of yours to whatever vile core you’re hidin’ from us.”

Ludwig tensed, but said nothing as he turned and left the room, Bela’s piercing blue eyes still on him. His retreat would only fuel their suspicion but he knew that if he had stayed it would have come to blows. He had never been so passionate about defending someone’s reputation, even though in this sad instance that reputation was well deserved. It still did not mean that Gilbert’s life should be on display for all to see, but Alex’s words rang true.

It would not stay secret. The odds were so incredibly stacked against that miracle.

Ludwig’s feet carried him automatically to his room, and he sat down at his desk, opening and closing his hands to try and regain some semblance of calm. He had been dangerously close to seeing red, the color that had stripped him of all his senses when he had been at war and had made him gifted in a way that he never had wanted.

With a quiet sigh he pressed his hands against his face, his heart rate finally slowing to the point where it no longer rang in his ears. He distantly heard the bell summoning him to Gilbert’s room, and after another blessed moment to himself he stood and made his way to the young lord’s room. He had barely remembered to grab the handkerchief on his way out, and he had a feeling he would not be enjoying any of the food.

Thankfully he encountered no one on his way to Gilbert’s room, and after the first knock the door flew open and Gilbert tugged him inside.

“I thought I would never be able to escape,” the young lord groaned, throwing himself dramatically on the bed. “They insisted I teach Rodie this horrendous concerto and my ears nearly bled after numerous failed attempts. They’re still in the parlor attempting to console him, he was in tears when I said that Mozart was spinning in his grave. The boy cannot even take a simple joke.”

“I see,” Ludwig said quietly, setting the handkerchief down and taking his normal seat by the fire.

Gilbert pushed himself up on his elbows and gave Ludwig an odd look.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice no longer playfully strident. “You look pale.”

Ludwig shook his head and offered Gilbert a tense smile. “Some of the staff were gossiping. I was drawn into it and lost my temper. It was not very dignified and I am sure I looked a fool and only heightened their suspicions.”

“That isn’t hard, given your propensity to turn red in the face,” Gilbert said absently, scooting to the end of the bed to allow his legs to dangle off of the side. He cleared his throat and then asked with affected normalcy, “What were they gossiping about?”

Ludwig shook his head and folded his hands in his lap, a troubled look on his face.

“You and the Spaniard,” he said quietly, seeing no point in hiding it. Gilbert would pester him until he broke down anyway and he would rather be honest and save himself the song and dance.

Gilbert fell immediately quiet, and when Ludwig glanced at him the young lord’s face was pale and his expression furious.

“Specifics, farmhand,” he said tensely. “If you please.”

“There is not much more specific I can get,” Ludwig said softly. “They were speculating as to the nature of your relationship, but before they could delve into unseemly territory I stopped them. Although now I am quite certain that my reaction has only fueled the rumors surrounding us. Even they are not dim enough to keep from making the connection.”

Ludwig fell troubled and silent after that, wondering if it would have been better for him to keep his mouth shut than risk exposing them. Whatever little there was to expose.

The sheets rustled as Gilbert moved, and a moment later the young lord took a seat on the carpet in front of Ludwig, his hands on the older man’s knees. Ludwig wearily lowered his head, and was mildly surprised to see a small smile on Gilbert’s face. He raised an eyebrow in question but Gilbert merely shook his head and said quietly, “Thank you. For standing up for me.”

Ludwig’s expression softened, and before he could think better of it he gently ran his fingers through Gilbert’s hair.

“How could I not?” he said quietly. “What they were saying wasn’t true. I… I think.”

His voice was slightly questioning, and Gilbert immediately rolled his eyes.

“Down, farmhand. There’s no need to get all excited.”

He shifted a bit, obviously uncomfortable before he cleared his throat and said lightly, “I found myself in a situation remarkably similar to the one we just left dangling in the orchard. Only in that long ago instance I was a much more startled and reluctant participant, and when all was said and done I believe I exhausted the contents of my stomach and vertically ascended a nearby shrub in a very dignified manner.”

Ludwig fell silent for a moment and then cleared his throat as well.

“You vomited and fled up a tree?”

He laughed when Gilbert hit his arm, a horribly embarrassed look on the young lord’s face.

“I was only thirteen!” he protested. “I did not have nearly the sensibilities I do now, and I had never regarded Antonio as anything more than a kind and slightly dimwitted playmate. Even now those feelings have not changed and while I am sure he replays his one moment of glory before being quite enthusiastically thrown up upon, I can assure you I have done my damndest to suppress that horrible memory. I care for Antonio, yes, but it’s… complicated.”

“Complicated,” Ludwig repeated quickly, the smile on his face fading. “Complicated in the same way we currently find ourselves?”

“No,” Gilbert said firmly, catching Ludwig’s gaze. “No not… not remotely close. Well for a brief moment before the vomiting I… may have indulged in some fantasies and ideas that most likely only served to heighten my nausea but in the end they faded very, very quickly. Gone with that night’s dinner, spilled upon the ground like so many moist, putrid jewels.”

“Stop,” Ludwig said immediately, pressing his hand over Gilbert’s mouth, his own stomach churning. “Stop I am begging of you.”

Gilbert’s eyes shone with amusement but he fell obediently silent, save for a very muffled, “What a delicate flower.”

“I am no more delicate than a work horse, but even the strongest stomach instinctively rejects vivid descriptions of bodily waste,” Ludwig muttered, not trusting Gilbert enough to move his hand.

Gilbert merely laughed, and a moment later Ludwig felt a warm, damp patch on his palm. He recoiled immediately, flustered beyond belief but Gilbert ignored his quiet flailing and lay down on the pillows in front of the fire, a pensive look on his face.

“If rumors of me and Antonio have already circulated then the cretins move faster than I anticipated,” he said, his voice glum. “This complicates an already complicated situation. One that I was hoping to shine some much needed light upon now that all the tittering and flouncing about is done.”

“I never tittered,” Ludwig muttered, pushing himself out of his chair to join Gilbert in front of the fire. “I am sure you were merely hallucinating. I hear stress will do that to a man.”

“Nervous chuckling, then,” said Gilbert absently, waving his hand. “Whatever you would like to label that odd series of noises after your bold but not unwelcome transgression.” The young lord glanced up at Ludwig, his red eyes flicking back and forth as he studied the older man’s features.

“I am going to ask you a question, farmhand. And I expect you to answer it this time and not simply stare at me with moon eyes.”

Ludwig shifted uneasily, glancing at the door and calculating his retreat but a strong hand on his wrist stopped him and Gilbert’s sweet voice said, “I would knock you unconscious with the fire iron before you could make it. The window too.”

Ludwig scowled and shot the young lord a nervous glare but finally nodded.

“Good boy,” Gilbert murmured, releasing his wrist and closing his eyes.

Silence covered the room for a long while, only the crackling of the fire providing some sort of reprieve until Ludwig finally coughed discretely.

“Were you planning on actually asking the question or merely expecting me to guess.”

“I’m thinking,” Gilbert said crossly, lightly hitting Ludwig’s knee. “And if you make one joke about me not straining myself you will be locked on the roof with an empty bottle as your sole companion and waste receptacle in one.”

Ludwig wisely held his tongue and studied the fire instead to give himself something to do while he waited. He didn’t have long, and only a minute or so later Gilbert finally spoke.

“Why did you kiss me?”

Ludwig felt his whole face burst into flame and he quickly cleared his throat again to keep himself from making any noises of embarrassment.

“That’s the question it took you ten minutes to construct?” he finally muttered, wincing when Gilbert’s pointy elbow connected soundly with his kneecap.

“I am baring my soul, farmhand,” Gilbert said snappishly, his own cheeks coloring as well. “I would ask that you treat it a little bit more delicately than your natural boorish instincts would dictate.”

Ludwig fell silent after that, rubbing his knee where it still stung. Why had he kissed Gilbert? He had thought the question ridiculously simplistic when the young lord had voiced it but he found himself completely without an answer. There had been a burst of impulse and Gilbert’s face had caught the moonlight at the exact right time to feed that quiet voice and he had been left with no other recourse but to kiss him.

Somehow he doubted Gilbert would accept that as an answer.

Ludwig sighed and rubbed at his tired eyes, resigning himself reluctantly to simply telling whatever came to mind.

“I kissed you because you looked beautiful,” he said, his voice subdued and defeated. “And because for an idiotic moment you made me forget myself and my position and made me feel as though I no longer needed to hide behind whatever purple words I could construct to keep you close.”

An uncomfortable silence muzzled the room before Gilbert finally muttered, “I take offense at your choice of adjectives but that… follows. I suppose.”

He cast a glance up at Ludwig, his red eyes wary.

“Did you know I would kiss you back?”

Ludwig shook his head. “I thought you would deck me,” he said dryly, resting his elbows on his knees. “Or laugh at me or pretend it was a game and start speaking in riddles and metaphors as you are wont to do when you feel cornered and awkward.”

“…Oddly enough those were all my first instincts,” Gilbert mumbled, a look of chagrin on his face. “I never thought – I never assumed you would let me indulge myself and my curiosity and it never once crossed my mind that your little covert touches and looks spoke of anything other than something upon which you would never act. Because you are, despite your farmhandedness, a gentleman.”

“I am fairly sure gentlemen kiss all the time,” Ludwig said quietly, his cheeks pink once more. “Although most likely not each other.”

Gilbert let out a bark of laughter and glanced up at Ludwig, a pleased smile on his face.

“I imagine more than you might think wish they had the courage to follow through with those base desires,” he said idly, shifting to rest his head in Ludwig’s lap. “Or perhaps that is merely my own wishful thinking to attempt to cull my guilty conscious.” He sighed quietly and closed his eyes, and Ludwig could not resist running his fingers through Gilbert’s soft hair once more, the silken strands whisper soft against his skin.

“I imagine the truth lies somewhere in between,” he said, his eyes catching sight of Gilbert’s throat as he swallowed.

“Most likely. But I am tired of talking in abstracts and about all of these fancy gentleman who may or may not be kissing each other,” said Gilbert. “And I would very much like to speak in concretes but I am extremely nervous that now the requisite magic that dictated our earlier actions has gone and we are left alone with the bluntness of reality and you will realize I have a blemish on my cheek that has been stubborn in its disappearance and that my voice still sometimes cracks when I am nervous and that I will realize once again how painful and rough your fingers are and – stop touching my hair you’re making it fluffy – and that your brow is always furrowed and you are eleven years my senior and a thousand steps below me on the list of possible suitors for the next queen and no matter how many times we slip out to the orchard again reality will close in more and more each time until it’s all we have left and you won’t ever find me beautiful enough to kiss again. Not that I am encouraging your use of the word in conjunction with me, mind you. Merely trying to put it into terms you can understand.”

Ludwig listened to Gilbert rant, watching his lips part with every word and the nervous twitch of his cheek, and indeed there was a small, angry red blemish there that he knew Gilbert had been picking at out of impatience.

“You forget that I am more acquainted with you in a half-asleep state threatening to dismember me and feed my intestines to all manner of exotic animals,” Ludwig said quietly, brushing the pad of his thumb over the delicate swell of Gilbert’s bottom lip. The young lord instantly fell still, and Ludwig could see his chest quivering like a trapped rabbit’s.

“Is there a point to this unflattering description of me when I have just been rudely awakened, farmhand, or are you simply being unkind?” Gilbert muttered, opening one eye to glare up at Ludwig.

Ludwig gently pressed his hand over Gilbert’s mouth and said, “Yes, if you would ever let me finish.”

He heard Gilbert grumble but did his best to ignore the younger man.

“I have hardly ever seen you in a state anyone in their right mind would call even mildly appealing,” he said, pretending as though he had not heard the undignified and angry squawk that followed. “You have been rude and insulting and still seem to have difficulty remembering my first name unless it is five in the morning and you want me to steal something for you from the kitchens. But even so, I…”

Ludwig trailed off, his voice failing him now that he had arrived at the part that actually mattered. Gilbert pushed his hand away, a look of poorly hidden anticipation and edginess on his face.

“But you what, farmhand?” he asked, his voice its normal drawling tone despite everything. “The second coming will be upon us before you ever finish a thought properly.”

Ludwig summoned up a glare as best he could, but it was a weak attempt.

“But even so I found you beautiful,” he muttered, looking away so he would not have to see Gilbert’s face. “Even so I wanted you. More than I should and more than I deserve and in every way that assures my life to come will be one of misery and torture far worse than what I endured before succumbing. So much that I selfishly took something from you that I never should have and dragged you down with me. And while that same still selfish part of me wants nothing more than to barricade the door and kiss you breathless I am utterly terrified of what I have already done.”

He could feel Gilbert staring up at him, and he tensed, waiting for the younger man’s response, whatever it would be.

He did not expect to be mildly slapped.

He pressed a hand to his cheek in surprise, the skin stinging. Gilbert’s face was red and he was shaking his hand (which was also bright red) and muttering quietly to himself before he sat back and prodded Ludwig in the chest with one thin and vengeful finger.

“I am not some pathetic damsel in a tower, Ludwig,” he said sharply, his tone and demeanor all annoyance. “I am not some wonderfully submissive and innocent girl you stole away without any regard for her own wishes. I have a sense of agency and pride and you are making it sound as though you are the only guilty party when I could have pushed you away or never even let you close or kicked you soundly where I have been told it is unsportsmanlike to kick a man. I was simply too cowardly to speak in anything but riddles and I thank God in heaven you took the first step towards our damnation because in that regard I am a pathetic little child who was too fearful of rejection to speak and act plainly. And if you try and turn that heroic yet admittedly deviant act into something that I had no part in orchestrating I will be utterly furious. I want my credit for sowing the seeds of our joint destruction just as much as I want you to follow through on that incredibly forward impulse that under different circumstances would make me swoon out of pure embarrassment. Am I making myself very, very clear?”

Ludwig blinked slowly and nodded his head. Gilbert looked like a vengeful and indigent crow that had just been upset from a nest, his bony fingers still prodding his chest.

“Good,” Gilbert said, finally sitting back with a slightly smug look on his face. “Because I have no intention of abandoning this development or tossing it aside as a mere fluke. Brutal reality or no, that was one of the happiest moments of my sadly deprived life and if you sullied it by playing martyr more than you already do I would be quite upset with you.”

Ludwig swallowed heavily, guilt still eating through the logic of Gilbert’s words.

“But I’m older, I should have known better than to—”

“Oh for God’s sake,” Gilbert said in exasperation, and with a quick movement Ludwig was too stunned to follow the young lord had somehow managed to pin him down against the pillows, one slim hand on his chest and a thoroughly put-out look on his face.

“Listen to me, Ludwig Schmidt,” Gilbert growled, and the younger man’s tone and voice made Ludwig’s stomach jump with something other than remorse. “If we are to do this, we are to do it properly. I am not inclined to be charitable, not when I’ve finally gotten something I very much want, and it is going to be difficult enough keeping everything hidden without your guilty conscious threatening to sabotage my efforts at every opportunity. We are sinners, yes, but if anything that makes us normal, save for the specific nature of our deviance. And if I am to go down for this I would rather drown with someone who is not bemoaning his pitifully weak soul every chance he gets. I want everything to be bright and beautiful until the last when it very much isn’t anymore, but we’ll worry about it then. And even if this venture turns out to be nothing more than a passing dalliance bereft of all the glorious passionate tragedy I am ascribing to it, I refuse to regret even a moment.” He let out a little noise to catch his breath, and Ludwig felt the younger man shift and a heavy weight against his stomach as Gilbert rested against him, one knee on either side of his chest. He glanced up at Gilbert, as though he could have looked anywhere else, his abdomen tightening with pleasure as he took in the look of complete and utter confidence on the younger man’s face.

“But I am nothing if not a gentleman,” Gilbert continued, grabbing Ludwig’s wrists and pinning them against his chest. Ludwig let out a startled noise Gilbert politely ignored. “So I will allow you a moment to decide if you can accept my terms or if you wish to keep wallowing. It would hurt and be beyond annoying but I would let you go if you said.”

He leaned down close, red eyes catching Ludwig’s blue as he said very quietly, “So I am ordering you to tell me, farmhand. No games. No poetic words or childish sidelong glances. Tell me if you want this.”

Ludwig’s breath caught in his throat, and he could not remember ever feeling so powerless and small before. Gilbert’s voice and posture spoke of nothing but pure desperation, despite the confidence in his voice. And while guilt and longing were vying for supremacy inside his head he could still recognize the wisdom in what Gilbert had said. His guilt would bury them. While Gilbert was willing to be flippant about the severity of their situation he could not afford to be. But that did not mean he had to drown himself in self loathing either.

Ludwig caught Gilbert’s eyes, feeling the younger man tense against him in anticipation of his response.

“I want this,” he said quietly, condemning the last of his lingering morality, the last of the façade he had spent half his life constructing. It hadn’t been doing him much good anyway. Gilbert had seen right through him.

Gilbert studied his face for a long moment before a look of utter relief crossed his own. His shoulders slumped as though a hundred bricks had suddenly landed upon them, and he let out a soft moan.

“Thank God.”

He leaned down and pressed his forehead against Ludwig’s chest, and after a moment Ludwig wrapped his arms around the slight frame, closing his eyes. He could feel Gilbert trembling, and without thought he pressed a gentle kiss to the younger man’s temple.

“What would you have done if I had said no?” he asked quietly, a hint of teasing in his voice.

“I don’t know,” Gilbert mumbled, long fingers fisting in Ludwig’s shirt. “Thrown a temper tantrum and locked you in the wardrobe so you wouldn’t be able to see me crying like the little girl I claimed not to be only a moment ago. Or made myself sick with humiliation and spent the rest of the night replaying that moment over and over again in my head until I threw myself from the balcony in utter despair. The usual.”

Ludwig laughed softly, closing his eyes and relishing the feeling of Gilbert’s weight against his chest. The embrace was still a chaste one, but he could feel Gilbert’s heart beating and the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed and the soft noises he made when a thought plagued him.

“Then I am very, very glad I said yes,” he said softly. “Otherwise I would have had to hear you wax poetic about your vomit for another hour.”

He laughed again when Gilbert hit his shoulder, and he quickly caught the young lord’s wrist and pressed a gentle kiss to his palm. Gilbert shivered and lifted his head, his cheeks pink and a slight pout tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Your sadistic side is showing,” he mumbled, pressing his palm against Ludwig’s lips again. “This was supposed to be a beautiful and heart wrenching moment and yet you’ve gone and made it all about my stupid prose again.”

“I have a hard time abstaining,” Ludwig mumbled against Gilbert’s hand, obediently kissing his palm like he knew he wanted. “You get so flustered and the way you screech ‘farmhand’ when you are especially put upon… it’s poetry—ow!”

He scowled up at Gilbert, who merely looked smug and prodded the teeth marks now adorning Ludwig’s index finger.

A serious expression suddenly crossed Gilbert’s face, and he glanced towards the door.

“…It doesn’t lock,” he said quietly, his shoulders stiffening. “And I don’t give a damn about the downstairs knowing. They can all rot in hell for being horrible rumor mongering bastards, but there’s…”

Ludwig nodded, his own expression grave as he cast a glance at the door as well.

“We’ll just have to be careful, then,” he said softly, running his hand soothingly up and down Gilbert’s arm. “What would you like me to do, though, if someone should ask?”

“Tell them it’s none of their business,” Gilbert muttered, resting his head against Ludwig’s chest again and closing his eyes.

Ludwig let his hand rest on the small of Gilbert’s back, feeling him tremble very slightly.

“…What if that someone is your father?”

Gilbert remained silent at that, and when Ludwig chanced to look at him there was a weary look on the young lord’s face, and his eyes were staring blankly at the rows of books lining the walls.

“He won’t find out,” Gilbert finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. “And after all this… it’s no more than it is. Dalliance. He would understand.”

“If you say so, then I have no choice but to believe you,” Ludwig said softly, not at all confident in Gilbert’s words. He closed his eyes, only smiling when he felt a delicate touch to his lips. He opened his eyes once more and stared up at Gilbert, the young lord’s face catching the firelight and casting half into dark shadow.

“Tell me I’m handsome again,” Gilbert demanded quietly, red eyes seeking Ludwig’s.

“You’re very beautiful,” Ludwig said, his voice completely serious even through Gilbert’s childish scowl.

“That wasn’t what I asked.”

Ludwig shook his head, smiling very slightly, and pushed himself up to close the distance between them. He pressed his lips against Gilbert’s, the touch feather light and pure. When he pulled away there was a dazed look on Gilbert’s face, and the curve of his lips betrayed him.

“Tell me again?” he asked quietly, bumping his nose gently against Ludwig’s.

Ludwig threaded his fingers through Gilbert’s hair to keep him close, his eyes slipping shut as he murmured softly for only Gilbert to hear.

They stayed like that long after the fire died, until the sky paled in the east and the first birds stirred and sang their annoyingly invasive songs.

Gilbert fell asleep just as the downstairs was beginning to rise, and Ludwig was loathe to wake him. He carefully pushed himself to his feet, managing somehow to carry the younger man to his bed without upsetting or waking him. He carefully tucked him in, and pressed one last kiss to his brow to smooth away the worried lines that had gathered there. A peaceful look took hold of Gilbert’s face, and he mumbled in his sleep before rolling over, disturbing the covers Ludwig had carefully arranged. Ludwig rolled his eyes, but made sure Gilbert was not about to suffocate himself before he finally left.

He closed the door behind him and silently made his way back to his cold room. Only then did he finally give in to sleep, his suit rumbled and his lips chapped from where Gilbert had been.


	15. An(a)mnesis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was ridiculously hard to write for some reason. i think i may have hit something of a writing block, and having to work on my academic publishing isn’t helping any. but thank you all for your patience, i greatly appreciate it. and thank you as well once again for your kind words of encouragement. I’m so happy so many of you are enjoying this story!

“No you simpleton. What part of sharps and flats do you not understand? Is it having to move half a step up or down? Are there too many keys? Is it your fat, stubbly fingers resisting gamely against any sort of culture? Honestly, I could continue. I just want a straight answer this time instead of your usual pathetic nonsense excuses.”

Ludwig pressed his hands against his face and let out a silent scream of frustration. It was his only way to fight back. When he had slammed his hand into the keys last time Gilbert had fallen off the bench and then proceeded to kick him mercilessly.

So piano lessons weren’t going very well.  
Ludwig growled with warning when Gilbert patted his shoulder in a false show of camaraderie.

“There, there. I’m sure you’ll get it eventually,” said Gilbert, his tone simpering and sympathetic. “After all, Mozart wrote this piece when he was five so you merely lack the dexterity of a near infant. I should be pitying you, not scolding you. What was I thinking.”

“Gilbert I swear to God,” Ludwig muttered, his voice muffled by his hands.

Gilbert let out a peal of laughter and leaned against Ludwig, prodding the man’s ever reddening cheek.

“You sound nearly ready to snap my head off,” he said lightly. “Should I take that as a hint that you are done for the day?”

“You should take that as a miracle that I haven’t defenestrated you yet,” Ludwig said, lowering his hands and resting them on the keys again. “But no. If you could keep the commentary to yourself then I may be able to last a few minutes more.”

Gilbert let out a heavy sigh and pulled away slightly.

“So demanding, farmhand. Asking me to restrain every instinct I possess,” he murmured, leaning back to glance at the door. It was partially open and every now and then a swishing of skirts or a thudding of shoes against the oak floor announced the presence of an interloper. Gilbert would straighten up and move to a more respectable distance until the noise faded. It was a maddening game of back and forth, but Ludwig’s poor piano playing ensured that no soul was brave enough to actually enter the music room. Which, in hindsight, had probably been Gilbert’s plan all along. Evil genius that he aspired to be.

Ludwig lightly tapped the keys and gave Gilbert a prompting look before he turned back to the sheet music. He still struggled with reading the notes, and every time he got one wrong Gilbert would very lightly smack his wrist. There was a small red mark on his skin and he was sure that if things continued in that vein he would eventually lose all feeling in his fingers and miss even more keys. It was a perpetual pain cycle from which he could not escape, and yet he endured it because the horrible music was the only thing that ensured them even some semblance of privacy.

Gilbert chuckled quietly and leaned over to rest his hand atop Ludwig’s, lining up their fingers.

“You seem to need some extra help,” he said sympathetically, and Ludwig was too flustered to protest or point out the idiocy of being so bold.

Gilbert increased the pressure on Ludwig’s ring finger and guided him through the piece. When the first mistake came and went without Ludwig sustain mild physical trauma, he finally relaxed and concentrated properly. Gilbert’s touch was feather-light but sure, and as the piece went on it began to resemble actual music instead of the ditherings of an asylum escapee. Ludwig furrowed his brow in concentration, becoming so absorbed in the piece that he forgot entirely where he was and who exactly was guiding him.

A polite clearing of the throat finally broke through the little musical bubble he’d constructed around himself. He quickly stood to attention, his face flushed as Lady Horschhorn stared at him in amusement from the music room doorway.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Schmidt,” she said politely, a small smile on her face. “I apologize for intruding. I assumed Roderich was practicing. I had no idea you were so musically gifted.”

“He’s not, Mother,” Gilbert drawled from his place on the piano bench, lightly pressing the keys with the tips of his fingers. “I am merely a better teacher than he is a poor student. Triumph was inevitable.”

“I see,” Lady Horschhorn laughed, her eyes crinkling with delight. “And here I thought that after the disaster that was Roderich you would have no interest in ever helping another living soul, much less an unskilled valet.”

“Ludwig refrains from whining like dear Rodie. Most of the time,” Gilbert said with a little sniff, standing up as well and moving to kiss his mother’s cheek. “The whole exercise has been one grand experiment in human endurance, and I must say I am surpassing even my own expectations.”

Ludwig fought not to roll his eyes in front of Gilbert’s mother and remained standing politely off to the side while the two talked. It was always strange to see how different Gilbert acted around his family and the rest of the staff. He was distant and his words more often biting and abrasive than not, although he was sweet to his mother and father and to Eliza. Roderich and the footmen received the brunt of his abuse, and on more than one occasion Ludwig had gently scolded him when they were out of earshot of those that would find such remonstrations more than a little suspicious. Unfortunately, those out of earshot moments had been too few and too far between for Ludwig’s liking.

It had been two weeks since they had spent the night together, and much to Ludwig’s annoyance Gilbert’s visiting family members and his cousins seemed hell bent on ensuring they received no more private time together. Gilbert was always so exhausted after running about with his cousins all day or traveling into town to help his mother place orders for various things that after dinner he would be nodding off while Ludwig helped him get ready for bed. Neither of them voiced their frustrations, but the exasperated looks Gilbert sometimes flashed him from across the sitting room when Ludwig was waiting on the family told him that the young lord was feeling cheated every bit as much as he was. Gilbert had told him the night before in a sleepy and put-out voice that once his extended family and Antonio left things would calm down or so help him, but Ludwig still had his doubts.

“Mr. Schmidt?”

Ludwig quickly nodded, focusing once more on Lady Horschhorn.

“Yes, my Lady.”

“I hate to pry you away from entertaining my son, but Lord Horchhorn’s sister’s valet needs help with their luggage. At half past if you would be so kind as to assist them.”

“Of course, my Lady,” Ludwig said, inclining his head slightly. The extended family was leaving today. He cast a glance at Gilbert and was only mildly disappointed to see the young lord looking completely unruffled. His own heart was pounding in his chest so loudly he was afraid Lady Horschhorn would be able to hear it. No more Antonio to bother them or small distant cousins to knock at the door at heinously late hours of the night demanding attention. They could finally sit and talk and be alone for the first time in two weeks.

“Honestly, farmhand, you could not be more transparent.”

Ludwig quickly glanced up and was met with Gilbert’s fondly exasperated expression. Lady Horschhorn was nowhere to be seen. He flushed slightly and sat back down on the piano bench as he muttered, “I simply do not have the years of practice it requires to be able to maintain an unwavering façade like you.”

“Oh, how harsh. Both implying that I am a scoundrel and assuring me of your own pure heart,” Gilbert teased, sitting down next to Ludwig and beginning to play a lively piece from memory. Every so often he had to lean against Ludwig to reach a higher note, and Ludwig would politely move more to the side. Gilbert would close the gap again until Ludwig was perched on the very edge of the bench, in danger of falling off.

“Gilbert…” he said warningly, but the young lord merely laughed and softened his playing, glancing up at the valet with a small smile.

“Did it not occur to you that I might be trying to annoy you just to hear those dulcet growls?” Gilbert murmured, his fingers still dancing over the keys.

“Strangely enough it did not, considering that last time I attempted to rebuff you in such a manner you flailed about like a beached fish and whined until I apologized.”

“You must have me mistaken for someone else. I have never once in my entire life displayed aquatic tendencies of any sort. You know how terrified I am of even baths,” Gilbert said with a little sniff, and Ludwig could not help but laugh.

He risked a glance at the door and then leaned down to say softly, “Your relatives are leaving today. Does that mean I can assume you will need company this evening when you are reading?”

Gilbert’s fingers hit a sour note and he hurried to recover, his pale cheeks dusted with red.

“I—that is a much politer way of putting it than I would have,” he said quietly, red eyes darting up to fix on Ludwig’s for a brief moment before he lowered them again. “But if we receive no more interruptions then you assume correctly.”

Ludwig’s stomach twisted with excitement, and after checking once more he leaned down to press a very quick kiss to Gilbert’s cheek. The young lord let out an unmanly yelp and jerked away, his entire face resembling an overripe peach.

“Farmhand have you completely lost your mind?” he hissed, striking his knee against Ludwig’s and elbowing him as best he could while he continued to play. “I know we promised to take a few risks but to be that bold as to –”

With a delicate roll of his eyes Ludwig leaned down to kiss Gilbert’s cheek again, laughing when the young lord let out a howl of indignation and began swatting at him, the beautiful piano piece tossed aside without a second thought.

“Rapscallion! Deviant, I should report you to Kirkland immediately,” Gilbert whined, hitting Ludwig’s arm repeatedly before hiding his face in his hands. Ludwig chuckled quietly and reached out to fix Gilbert’s collar as he murmured, “My apologies, my dear. You get so hilariously flustered I have difficulty restraining myself.”

Gilbert let out a high pitched whine and hunched over slightly, red eyes peering up at Ludwig through cracks in between his fingers.

“I am no deer of yours, nor any other ungulate,” he mumbled, his eyes fixating on the door with a nervous, jumpy sort of attention. “And you are being far too bold, farmhand. Just because you are worked up about a little rendezvous this evening you suddenly turn into an animal and –”

“A single word of protest from you is all it would take to ensure my teasing be restricted to a more intimate setting,” Ludwig said quietly, suddenly feeling rather badly that he had perhaps taken things too far. He plucked at a few of the keys, grimacing when his large, rough fingers slipped to hit two notes at once.

Next to him Gilbert had fallen silent, but after a long while he slowly uncurled and muttered, “You know very well I enjoy playing Russian roulette far too much to genuinely protest. Although you are still an idiot.”

“I cannot argue with that,” Ludwig said quietly, glancing down at Gilbert again with a rather helpless smile on his face. “I seem to find myself reduced to such a state around you far too often. It’s rather unsettling.”

Gilbert gave him a bland look and then tapped a few of the keys, mumbling in obvious embarrassment, “You are a regular Casanova, farmhand, I will give you that. Although it’s somewhat disappointing to hear that my salacious charm and uncompromising wit merely inspire idiocy in the target of my affections. If we remain together I fear you may eventually be reduced to a single celled organism and then where would we be.”

Ludwig shrugged, lightly tapping his fingertips against Gilbert’s own as the young lord played.

“I don’t mind,” he said, his voice quiet and earnest. “I would rather be an idiot savant in your company than a genius alone.”

Gilbert abruptly slammed his hands into the keyboard and collapsed against it in a dramatic display. “Enough, enough,farmhand, before I lose my senses entirely and cast all reservations aside,” he wailed quietly. “Honestly…” He turned his head to stare ruefully up at Ludwig, who returned the look with a slightly embarrassed smile. Gilbert scowled in return and stuck out his tongue, his face still red.

“Your smile won’t work on me, Ludwig,” he muttered, starting when Ludwig’s smile only grew brighter.

“What?” he asked, an unsure look on his face. “Why are you smiling like that?”

Ludwig shrugged again and then said in a slightly self-conscious voice, “The rare instance when you use my name is appreciated. That is all.”

Gilbert slowly hunched over and gently hit his forehead against the keys. It almost sounded better than Ludwig’s piano playing.

“If you said it more often I am sure the novelty would wear off,” Ludwig said helpfully, snorting when Gilbert gave him a baleful look.

“I knew twisting your easily malleable mind into thinking this was a good idea was in itself a very bad one,” the young lord muttered, sounding utterly defeated. “Your confidence is my undoing.”

“If you are looking for me to apologize you may have to make a stronger case than simply ‘I will look pathetically adorable as I sulk’.”

Gilbert sat up, pushing his hair out of his eyes as he said crossly, “Don’t you have some luggage to attend to, farmhand?”

Ludwig frowned and looked at the clock, sighing when he realized it was indeed almost half past the hour.

“Duty calls,” he said, standing up and grabbing his coat to slip it back on. He blinked in surprise when Gilbert stood as well, and could not help the pleased smile that crossed his face as the young lord straightened his lapels for him and smoothed the wrinkles out of the front of his coat.

Ludwig shifted slightly to allow his hand to brush discretely against Gilbert’s side.

“I thought you nobles did not know how to properly put on a coat,” he said quietly. “Hence my position here.”

“Don’t ruin the moment, farmhand,” Gilbert said, scowling up at Ludwig and prodding at the tip of his nose. “It is most unbecoming.”

“Apologies, my lord,” Ludwig murmured, brushing a lock of hair behind Gilbert’s ear. “I doubt I will be able to return before you have to return to your rooms to get ready for tea but I will see you then?”

“I suppose you will,” Gilbert said with a heavy sigh, wrinkling his nose. “And don’t call it ‘tea,’ we are more sophisticated than that. I enjoy the continental nomenclature and ask that my staff make use of it as well.”

Ludwig snorted and said dryly, “Dinner, then. Before dinner.”

He gave Gilbert one last fond smile before the young lord grew too flustered and shooed him out the door, Ludwig laughing and teasing him the whole while.

The moment he passed the threshold, however, the smile left Ludwig’s face and his normal stoic expression returned. He checked his appearance in one of the mirrors adoring the hallway and then made his way upstairs, trying in vain to remember the other valet’s name. Elbin. Everet. Everest. It was hopeless. Names never were his forte.

He found the valet struggling with the family’s luggage in the most formal guest room and hurried to help. The man was too grateful to mind that Ludwig had forgotten his name, despite having been introduced to him several times. The family was apparently downstairs having a late luncheon in preparation for their return trip, which was just as well as Ludwig and the other valet struggled for nearly an hour to move the incredibly heavy and copious luggage pieces down into the foyer. Thankfully Kirkland came and assisted them halfway, and by the time the family left the dining room everything was ready for their departure.

Ludwig took his place in line with the rest of the staff to see the family off. Antonio was leaving with them, and Ludwig politely averted his eyes when Gilbert said a very heartfelt goodbye to his friend. It was a far cry from the flustered, almost hostile way in which Gilbert had received Ludwig’s affections only an hour ago in the music room, and Ludwig had to work hard to keep the jealousy off of his face. Antonio was leaving and even if he were not, Gilbert did not return his feelings, despite the fact that they would be much better suited for one another in terms of age and station and personal history and Ludwig cursed his own interior monologue for depressing him.

After one last friendly embrace, Gilbert finally released his friend with promises to write. Antonio smiled back, although his green eyes were slightly misty and dull. He ascended the motor carriage and sat down next to Gilbert’s aunt and began talking to her softly. The staff remained at attention until all the family had piled into the coaches and were off down the long driveway. Only when the vehicles disappeared around the last bend did Kirkland finally release them to the rest of their duties. One by one the staff hurried off, but a light tap to his shoulder stopped Ludwig.

“A moment of your time, Mr. Schmidt, if you please,” said Kirkland, and Ludwig had no choice but to nod and accompany the older man back inside to the staff rooms. Kirkland did not speak until they were out of the house proper and seated in his study.

“My father has fallen ill, and so I must take a brief leave of absence to tend to him,” Kirkland said.

“My apologies,” said Ludwig, doing his best to sound sincere.

“He is a bitter old drunk. There’s nothing to be sorry for, other than that it will mean I must be away from the estate for some time,” Kirkland said, his voice still polite and detached despite the bitterness of his words. “However, this also means that I must ask you as Gilbert’s valet to take over my similar duties with his lordship. The footmen will help as well, of course, so that you are not overly burdened, but seeing as you are the only other officially trained valet I must impose upon you slightly.”

Ludwig inwardly groaned but he nodded in understanding and said quietly, “Of course, sir. Whatever is required of me.”

“Very good,” Kirkland said absently, sifting around in his desk drawers for something. “I suspect Lord Gilbert will not be overly pleased with these temporary new arrangements, but he will simply have to learn how to share his time with you. It is a valuable lesson and will hopefully ease the transition should you ever leave our service here.”

“I have no plans to leave, sir,” Ludwig said immediately, his heart lurching at the thought. “So I hope that is a challenge Lord Gilbert will not have to face.”

“Is that so?” Kirkland asked, turning away from his desk to fix Ludwig with a calculating stare. “Well, you are a hard worker, and although Lord Gilbert’s increasing familiarity with you is slightly odd, as things stand now I cannot say that is unwelcome news.”

“I believe he is merely lonely, sir,” Ludwig said quietly. “And we share some interests in the realms of literature and history. I of course cannot claim his level of intelligence and experience in those areas but I do not believe I am being too bold when I say he enjoys our conversations.”

“As long as they remain solely intellectual I cannot say I mind either,” said Kirkland, finally turning back to his desk. A moment later he handed Ludwig a letter. “This is a schedule I have drawn up to ensure that the duties surrounding his lordship do not go undone. I have posted a copy in the staff kitchens as well. You will be in charge of seeing that his lordship is properly outfitted before dinner and any formal events, but the footmen will help with his other regiments. Alex has experience shadowing as a valet, and so he will be in charge of the more delicate operations.”

“I understand,” Ludwig said, accepting the letter and tucking it into his breast pocket.

“Very good.” Kirkland raised one bushy eyebrow. “To ensure that you will do the job properly I would like you to assist me in reading his lordship for tonight’s dinner. I am assuming Lord Gilbert can manage on his own for one night.”

Ludwig’s stomach sank with disappointment but he nodded politely. “Of course, sir. It would be a great help to me.”

“Then we should make our way to his lordship’s rooms now,” Kirkland said, checking his watch. “With the rest of the family leaving today I have pushed dinner back a half an hour. That should hopefully give us enough time to check your skills.”

Kirkland immediately stood and headed out the door, and Ludwig hurried to follow him. They passed several of the staff on the way to Lord Horschhorn’s room, one of them Alex, who gave him a slightly predatory smirk that Ludwig did not find at all reassuring. It was going to be a nightmare having to work and coordinate things with the footmen, none of whom other than Lee seemed to like him all that much. And with Kirkland gone it was highly likely he was going to have to help serve meals as well and act as butler to the house. It was all so overwhelming Ludwig simply chose not to think about it for the time being and focused on not losing Kirkland in the slight crowd of staff gathered around the stairwell.

They finally made it to the house proper and Lord Horschhorn’s rooms and Kirkland knocked politely before entering, not bothering to wait for a response from the earl. Ludwig cautiously followed the butler inside, doing his best not to look too flabbergasted by the elegance he suddenly found himself surrounded by. He had assumed that Gilbert’s quarters accurately represented the level of splendor with which the family’s private rooms were adorned, but the rich tapestries of bright reds and golds and the incredibly lavish Arabian rugs that covered the floor made him realize that he had been completely ignorant as to what an overabundance of wealth truly looked like.

“Mr. Schmidt, I would ask that you please refrain from drooling on the embroidery. We just had it cleaned,” Kirkland said, his grating voice making Ludwig jump to attention once more.

Lord Horschhorn was seated at his desk, but he chuckled quietly and turned to face the two staff members, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Polite as ever, Kirkland. It’s a wonder Mr. Schmidt has agreed to this at all,” the lord said, rising from his seat and clapping Ludwig on the shoulder. Ludwig stood to attention, feeling sweat pour down his back. He hadn’t anticipated the feelings of guilt to return when confronted with Gilbert’s father. The man trusted him and he had every intention of doing unspeakable things to his son.

It was awkward.

“It’s my pleasure, my lord,” Ludwig said quietly, managing to keep a straight face. “Although I know I cannot hope to even begin to fill Mr. Kirkland’s shoes.”

“Yes, he will be missed while he is gone, although thankfully he has informed me that it will be no longer than a month,” Lord Horschhorn said, moving over to his wardrobe where Kirkland was already organizing suits. The butler gestured for Ludwig to move closer and pay attention.

“I have organized these for ease of retrieval,” Kirkland explained. “They have all been checked for tears and lost buttons and the like, so if I return to find them in need of mending I will hold you accountable.”

“Oh, Kirkland, there’s no need to be so strict with him,” Lord Horschhorn laughed, giving Ludwig a reassuring smile. “Kirkland’s bark is far worse than his bite, Schmidt. Try not to take it to heart.”

Ludwig nodded and said quietly, “Yes, my lord,” but the glare Kirkland shot him made him doubt the man’s comforting words. He quickly took the suit coat from Kirkland when prompted and set about dressing the man for dinner. It was startling to work on someone his own size. Gilbert was comparatively slim and smaller, and his suits were not nearly as elaborate. Kirkland had to correct him multiple times, but finally Ludwig grabbed the coat brush and began his final inspection.

Lord Horschhorn had remained politely quiet during the proceedings, most likely so he would not interrupt Kirkland’s near constant stream of corrections and instructions, but as soon as the butler fell silent he spoke.

“The way you stand to attention has always been to me a prime indicator of your past experience in the military,” Lord Horschhorn said. “Upper ranks if your stature is anything to go by. Were you by any chance a batman?”

Ludwig’s hand stilled for a moment in the middle of removing a stubborn piece of lint, and it took him a bit of forced will to continue.

“No, my lord, although I wish I had been,” Ludwig said quietly. “I was merely infantry. Eighty seventh division.”

“I see.” Lord Horschhorn glanced up at the ceiling to allow Ludwig to fix his tie. “If you don’t mind my asking, Schmidt, when were you born?”

“1901, my lord,” Ludwig answered softly, bracing himself for the normal round of either praise or derision he inevitably received when his fellow countrymen learned of his young age.

“And when did you join the war?”

“Early 1917, my lord.”

Lord Horschhorn fell silent, and when Ludwig caught a glimpse of the man’s face his dark eyes were sad.

“You were sixteen? Conscription was only for men eighteen and older. I cannot imagine they were aware of your real age.”

Ludwig worked quietly for as long as he could until Kirkland’s heavy glare forced him to answer.

“They were not, my lord. I lied,” he said, taking a step back, his work complete. Lord Horschhorn cast him a startled look, but then examined his coat sleeves and said gently, “Kirkland has trained you well. Not a thread out of place.” He gestured for Ludwig to follow him, and after a prompting stare from Kirkland he did so. The earl continued to talk as he led them into a side sitting room. Upon an oaken server were several decanters, and the earl poured himself a drink.

“A man’s business is no one’s but his own, and yet curiosity is making it difficult for me to keep quiet,” the earl admitted, sitting down and gesturing for Ludwig to do the same. “Would you like a drink?”

“No thank you, my lord, and I assure you it is not an interesting story,” Ludwig said, his voice betraying his slight discomfort even as he obeyed the silent order. Kirkland had vanished somewhere between the lord’s rooms and the sitting room and Ludwig found himself perversely wishing for the man’s company.

Lord Horschhorn toyed with his glass, a pensive look on his face. “Were you that eager to join the cause? Or did you feel pressure because of your last name?”

“There were some who were unkind to me because of it, but no, they did not force me into service, my lord,” Ludwig said quietly, folding his hands in his lap. “I went because I was a coward and it provided me a false sense of bravery.”

“I would hardly call joining the infantry at the age of sixteen an act of cowardice,” Lord Horschhorn said, sipping at his drink. “It takes a true man to admit his own fear. I was shaking in my boots when I went to report, although as an officer I was in considerably less danger than my fellow countrymen whose blood did not ensure them such a safe position. You were in France, then?”

“Yes, in France,” Ludwig said, feeling a dull weight take hold of him as the earl’s voice stirred more and more the dark mud that had kept things buried. “By sheer luck I was raised in a household that spoke French and German as well as English, so I was considered a valuable asset, although few men trusted me. I served under Commander Grisham until the end of the war, although my abilities as translator or interpreter were not put to as much use as my ability to wield a firearm and bayonet.”

“Very unfortunate,” the earl quietly agreed. “I could have used a man like you in my regiment. It’s a shame our paths did not cross earlier.”

The two men fell silent before the earl suddenly spoke again.

“You stayed until the bitter end, I assume. From the way you talk. No serious injuries, I take it?”

Ludwig shook his head, his right knee sending a little spark of ghostly pain through his body that used to haunt him much more vividly.

“Only shrapnel wounds. One shot to the shoulder and another to the calf, although my knee was badly injured in close combat. My lord,” Ludwig said, barely remembering to add the proper title and to not salute. It felt like his trial all over again, with uncomfortable generals and an unimpressed judge studying his record. He had lied to His Majesty’s armed forces. The men assumed the lie was for honorable reasons, and Ludwig simply had not bothered to correct them.

“You were lucky, then. And you seem to still have your wits about you,” the earl commented, offering Ludwig a tiny smile that quickly faded. “Many of my men were not so blessed. Even though their physical wounds have long healed most retain mental scars that I fear will never leave.”

“I believe we all carry those sorts of injuries in one way or another, my lord,” Ludwig said as politely as he could, his hands beginning to shake the longer the earl questioned him. Already he could hear the distant impact of mortars, and nights lying awake in India had taught him what came next. The earth would tremble, his head would reel from the incredible, loathsome din, and he would awake the next morning to find himself huddled on the ground like a child, his face pale and his cheeks dry from salt. He had spent many stubborn years ridding himself of any fearful inclinations and one conversation was threatening to undo his work. It was a troubling pattern and he desperately longed to be alone to attempt to put things back in order before the ground swallowed him again.

“That is true, I suppose,” Lord Horschhorn said softly, draining the last of his drink and setting the crystal glass down on the table, a pensive frown on his face. “Men are delicate creatures in the end. I cannot say I escaped the war unscathed, although it feels self-indulgent to admit to such when comparing my own injuries to those I witnessed and to the sandstone markers that now flood our fields and church yards.”

Ludwig nodded, his mouth parched and his hands still trembling.

He abruptly stood, an apologetic look on his face.

“I am sorry, my lord, but there are other duties I need to attend to…”

“Of course, of course,” the earl said immediately, but the distant look in his eye told Ludwig that he, too, was blind to the quiet house before him. “We must discuss this again later, Schmidt. I have many questions left for you and a selfish desire to see them through to the end.”

“Very good, my lord,” Ludwig said, feeling as though he were about to weep from latent fear. He nodded politely and took his leave. The moment he was upstairs among the children’s rooms again he began to run, a dark sickness pulling at him. He was not aware that he had barged into Gilbert’s room until the young lord’s bemused voice took hold of his ears.

“Farmhand, what on earth—”

He barely had time to register the shocked and worried look on Gilbert’s upturned face before he pulled the younger man into a crushing hug, burying his face in his soft hair and holding on as tightly as he could, so sure he would drown were he to let go.

He could feel Gilbert’s embarrassment in the way he shifted, as well as the growing realization when he finally fell still.

“Farmhand – Ludwig, what is it?” Gilbert asked quietly, “You’re trembling…”

Ludwig sucked in a sharp breath when he felt Gilbert’s timid hands rest against his back. He could only groan quietly in response, unable to say anything without compromising what little dignity he had left.

Gilbert fell silent for a very long time, and Ludwig was grateful for the stillness, even if it allowed the mortars to draw closer. He had no desire to burden Gilbert with any of this. It was a passing anxiety, and it would be sorted in time.

A gentle tugging on his arm made him lift his head, and he reluctantly met Gilbert’s eyes, steadfastly ignoring the traitorous mark on his cheek.

Gilbert’s eyes were hard, and when he finally spoke his voice was clipped.

“Did someone say something to you? Was it one of the staff?”

Ludwig blinked in surprise and had to quickly turn away to scrub his eyes of the damning evidence.

“No, Gilbert, nothing like that,” he said quietly, his voice breaking despite his best efforts.

“Are you lying for them? There’s no reason to protect them, whoever it is they are lowly trash who do not deserve the privilege of human speech,” Gilbert snapped, tugging at Ludwig’s arm again, and it was only from a faint note of desperation in Gilbert’s voice that Ludwig registered Gilbert’s feint to hide his own terror.

He quickly got himself under control and offered Gilbert a weak smile that was not returned, and after a moment he gave up the pretense.

“I’m not lying for anyone,” he said quietly, shaking when he heard a shell fall close by. He quickly sat down, pressing his feet against the hardwood floor and forcing himself to accept the still reality.

He heard a rustling of clothes, and after a moment warmth spread along his side as Gilbert joined him. He waited a moment to make sure he would not react again and then glanced down at the young lord. There was a stubborn look on Gilbert’s face, but his eyes were wide and panicked.

“You’re acting not like yourself,” he said quietly, taking Ludwig’s hand and holding it against his chest. “Tell me.”

Ludwig shook his head, his fingers clutching at Gilbert’s for a brief moment of weakness before he forced himself to let go. He opened his mouth to lie and tell him it was nothing again, but he suddenly found himself face to face with the young lord, Gilbert’s nose mere inches from his.

“And do not tell me it’s nothing,” Gilbert said quietly, his voice shaking but full of warning. “I won’t believe you and I will spend dinner and dessert horribly worried and Mother will ask too many questions and be incredibly bothersome. So you should tell me, farmhand, before I guilt it out of you.”

A brief spark of annoyance made Ludwig’s eye twitch despite everything, and he muttered, “Brat,” under his breath before another shell made him fall quiet again. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out, so he closed it again, feeling like a fool. What could he say that would not sound pathetic? That a mere conversation had made him feel sixteen years old again and about to die. That he could feel the floor shaking and soft voices calling to him. He sounded mad even saying it to himself. Gilbert respected him despite his position and to admit to anything would be to jeopardize that precious gift.

He tensed again when slim arms wrapped around his neck and soft lips met his own. He gently pushed Gilbert away, offering him an apologetic albeit slightly irritated look.

“You’ll be late for dinner,” he muttered, and he was sure in that moment that Gilbert was going to punch him. But instead the young lord merely looked crushed, and after a bit he pushed himself off of Ludwig’s lap and stood.

“At least you can obey orders of terminology,” Gilbert muttered, his footsteps heavy as he walked towards the door. “Take a nap in my bed to compose yourself then, if you refuse to tell me. I am not in the habit of coddling the weak and cowardly.”

He slammed the door behind him when he left.

Ludwig could only stare at the door like a heartbroken fool for a very long time, the floorboards still shaking underneath his feet. He found himself curling up atop Gilbert’s bed despite conscious protests to the contrary, a pillow hugged tight against his chest. He buried his face in the soft linens, wishing they still retained Gilbert’s warmth since it was highly unlikely he would feel it again anytime soon.

He drifted off finally, a troubled look on his face as mental exhaustion finally took its toll.

His dreams were plagued with the usual sorts of images that in his younger days he had grown jaded to. But years of their absence from his subconscious had made their return all the more horrifying, and he awoke in a cold sweat, the pillow now on the other side of the room. He could still hear the drums and the flash of heat and his knee and shoulder ached, but his proper senses were returning. Slowly, but they were there.

He felt the bed shift and a bolt of panic took him without warning.

He pushed himself away from whatever was holding on to him and fell heavily to the floor, the impact stunning him enough to get any ridiculous ideas of a counter attack out of his head. He rubbed at his bruised backside, and before he could stand Gilbert peered over the edge of the bed, a sleepy yet injured look on his face.

“I suppose that’s what I get for napping with you,” Gilbert muttered, running his fingers through his messy hair. “And I skipped dessert to come back early. What a fool I was. Younger me is such an idiot.”

“Younger you is only younger by at most fifteen minutes,” Ludwig said quietly, the light outside informing him roughly of the time. Dinner could not have been over for long.

“Semantics.”

Gilbert stared at him for a moment longer before one silver eyebrow rose to his hairline.

“Are you planning to remain on the floor, farmhand, or do I need to bodily drag you?”

Ludwig carefully pushed himself to his feet, wincing as his back protested. The fall had done a number on him, as pathetic as it was, and he crawled back into Gilbert’s bed with a grateful sigh. He rested on his side, facing Gilbert, and winced when he took in the younger man’s expression. There was a glint of anger to his stare, and when he spoke Ludwig knew he had read him correctly.

“I’m… sorry.”

…Or at least he thought he had.

Ludwig frowned.

“Come again?”

Gilbert gritted his teeth and the scraping noise distracted Ludwig from the last of his nightmare.

“I apologized, farmhand. You needn’t act quite so surprised every time.”

“I know,” Ludwig said quickly, a horrible flush stealing over his cheeks. “I’m just not… entirely sure why you are apologizing.”

It was Gilbert’s turn to fall uncomfortably silent, and the hunted and unsure look on his face made Ludwig reach out instinctively to rest his hand against Gilbert’s cheek.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, “For whatever the reason. I accept.” His lips twitched up into the beginnings of a smile when Gilbert stammered and then visibly sulked.

“You’re thanking me for being a complete prat. You really are smitten,” he muttered. He closed his eyes and draped his arm casually over Ludwig’s hip, but Ludwig could feel him shaking slightly from the boldness of the action.

“No. I’m grateful you know when not to pry,” Ludwig said softly, mimicking Gilbert and resting his hand atop the younger man’s hip to keep him close.

“W-Well after only a moment of thought it was all too obvious what the underlying cause most likely was,” Gilbert mumbled, his voice catching slightly when Ludwig ran his thumb over his hip bone in a moment of stupid neediness. “Papa used to get like that sometimes. After he came back. Very quiet and he would hug my mother for a long time at the oddest moments. It used to make me so frightened. I thought he was dying or that Mother was dying or that I was dying which was the very worst of all of course because we all know what happens when someone else dies but no one has had the luxury of recounting the opposite with any amount of scientific credibility.”

For some reason Gilbert’s blasé tone and the posh lilt of his voice made Ludwig’s eyes start to sting again. He tugged Gilbert a bit closer, wrapping his arm around the younger man’s waist.

Gilbert shifted a bit to acclimate to the new position, but then had to mumble, “Ludwig, as much as I enjoy this sort of thing I really hope that you are keeping in mind the exact nature of our situation,” his voice slightly muffled by Ludwig’s chest.

“I am,” Ludwig said quietly, squeezing his eyes shut. “And I’m sorry Gilbert but I just need – only a moment longer I promise… I’m so sorry –”

“Enough, Ludwig,” Gilbert said quickly, a note of panic to his voice. “You’re fine just don’t… don’t apologize. Please… It makes me feel as though you are about to announce something horrible and quite honestly I cannot take this constant up and down for much longer.”

Ludwig bit back another apology and nodded instead before falling silent. Gilbert’s hand on his back traced little patterns as he slowly relaxed, and after only a moment’s silence Gilbert spoke again.

“I have to be honest with you,” he said quietly. “Papa – Father told me a bit of what you talked about. That you volunteered and went off to France when you were too young. He sounded so proud of you even though he called you reckless and I know it’s horribly selfish of me but I can’t help but feel slightly jealous and inadequate and all sorts of terrible, cowardly things and I’m so ashamed…”

Gilbert hid his face against Ludwig’s chest as he said bitterly, “I wish I had been born in time to serve. Then I could –”

“Don’t,” Ludwig said immediately, his voice tight with panic. “Gilbert don’t finish that wish. I beg of you just… don’t. Please.”

Gilbert tensed against him and Ludwig felt immediately guilty for his harsh words, but he could feel more bitter thoughts creeping upon him and making him imagine a new hell where Gilbert’s had been the marred face in the sand and it made him sick to his stomach.

The feeling was slow to pass, and by the time Ludwig regained himself he was sure Gilbert had fallen asleep against him. The younger man’s chest was rising and falling with soft breath and his lips were parted slightly.

Ludwig pulled away just enough to get a good look at his face, reassuring the stubborn part of his terror that Gilbert was unchanged.

“I’m a pathetic cliché,” he said quietly, resting his hand against Gilbert’s cheek. Sight wasn’t enough.

“Yes, you are.”

Ludwig pulled back immediately, an embarrassed flush on his face as he watched Gilbert sit up, his hair mussed and an irritable look on his face. He blinked slowly and then slumped forward again, letting out an overwrought sigh.

“But you are my pathetic cliché, my hooved mammal beast, and so I don’t especially enjoy hearing you talk about yourself in so disparaging a voice.”

Gilbert propped his chin on Ludwig’s chest and stared up at him, his eyes going slightly crossed.

“And next time you feel yourself getting panicky like a little rabbit come and find me, please. I am very dead set against the idea of you suffering another war alone.” He paused. “Even if you are crazy like Vash said and you’re simply imagining it all.”

“What.”

Gilbert burst out laughing and pulled away slightly, grinning at Ludwig’s put-out expression.

“Oh yes. He was quite the little prick at dinner tonight,” Gilbert said, taking Ludwig’s hands and swinging them back and forth between them. “Father scolded him and Eliza jammed her fork into his side so all in all it was an eventful evening.”

Ludwig’s eyes narrowed and he muttered something very unkind under his breath that Gilbert unfortunately caught. The young lord laughed again and said teasingly, “I will come visit you in prison should you go through with that. But Ludwig.”

His expression suddenly turned grave, and Ludwig glanced at him, a nervous look on his face at the noticeable change in atmosphere.

Gilbert stared back for a moment longer and said quietly, “You really must promise me you’ll find me if you ever get lost like that again. You’re all that’s interesting in my life right now and while I realize that’s incredibly selfish and self-serving I’m nobility and it’s in my nature so you aren’t allowed to get angry and push me away when I say I need you unless I’ve done something to warrant your disdain. So you have to promise, please, or I don’t know what I’ll do…”

Ludwig nodded and brought Gilbert’s hand to his chest, drawing a small cross over his heart. He fell still, forcing himself to take the pledge to heart, and then raised an eyebrow.

“Interesting? That was the best adjective you could come up with?”

“It is the most accurate and therefore the most worthy of being voiced,” Gilbert said with a little sniff, his demeanor returning to its usual state. “You are interesting and several other things too but some of them are decidedly negative and some are far too positive for me to say without combusting and so I went the neutral route. I am Switzerland and very obnoxious in that way and you will have to put up with it because you promised.”

“I did,” Ludwig said grudgingly, leaning forward to quickly brush his lips against Gilbert’s. “I promised because I am apparently an ungulate whatever that is and horribly susceptible to your charms, you wretched serpent.”

“And you’re not shaking any longer,” Gilbert said, a sly tone coloring his voice.

Ludwig blinked in surprise and took a moment to assess his current state before he realized that Gilbert was right. He wasn’t shaking, the floor was not creaking or in danger of collapse and Gilbert was looking inordinately pleased with himself. Gilbert licked the tip of his finger and drew a little tally mark in the air, to which Ludwig protested, “You can’t keep score! In what world is that even remotely fair?”

“Mine,” Gilbert said simply, bursting out laughing when Ludwig tackled him, sending them sprawling across the bed.

Ludwig pushed himself up, hovering over Gilbert and taking in the sight of his flushed, pleased face and devilishly curved lips. He had half a mind to dig his fingers into Gilbert’s sides where he knew he was most ticklish and force him to apologize in that annoyingly breathless and desperate way he would when he was being lightly tortured, but something gave him pause. His breath caught in his throat when he realized exactly how he had positioned himself, but he felt frozen. Pinned in place by Gilbert’s arms wrapping again around his neck serpentine like and squeezing.

The teasing grin slowly left Gilbert’s face, and Ludwig felt them fall again in synch with one another. Breaths matching, hearts pounding in their chests as they waited on edge for one to break the string.

Gilbert’s pink tongue darted out to wet his lips, and he parted them to murmur Ludwig’s name in a longing, questioning voice, slim fingers burying themselves in Ludwig’s hair.

Ludwig closed his eyes, seas of wire and copper stretching out before him and promising return. He pushed them aside as best he could, opening his eyes to focus once more on his blissful reality. His wild paradise in human form.

He leaned down to capture Gilbert’s rough lips, hands shaking as he pulled the younger man to rest against him, needing in that instant to feel touch, to feel contact like he had when he had been drowning for reassurance of reality. He dimly heard Gilbert moan, felt the younger man’s shudder and his voice catch as he deepened the kiss, his own rough, clumsy fingers tugging at the perfectly tied cloth around Gilbert’s neck, undoing every bit of work he had put into his sham of an occupation.

Downstairs the floorboards creaked, with footsteps and not broken shells. The house continued on, happy in its ignorance of twisted sheets and darkened marks against skin.


	16. Cab(a)l

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another transition-ish chapter. the next few though should be full of intrigue and plot (ha) now that the stage has been appropriately set for things.
> 
> i seriously can’t believe this fic is still going. aren’t you all bored of this yet?
> 
> just kidding i love you.
> 
> (you’ll never escape.)

The house was wonderfully quiet when the stars were at their apex. Before gray tarnished the horizon and the animals began to stir, when the fires in their grates glowed embers and the dogs curled underneath the beds, whimpering softly as they dreamed of the hunt.

Ludwig cherished that peaceful window and staved off sleep as often as he could bear. It used to be his moment of solitude, but now with the stars came whispered voices and gentle touches and soft goodbyes. On nights when the house fell truly still Ludwig felt safe enough to stay, but they were few and far between.  
On nights when floorboards creaked too much and there were murmurs in the vents he would help Gilbert change, turn down the bed clothes, and then leave to head back to his lonely room, sad, red eyes haunting his steps. The nights were getting longer and colder and he very much missed having Gilbert to keep them at bay. But the moment of quiet the stars brought was worth the solitude. At times.

It was strange being lonely. Ludwig could not remember feeling the emotion so keenly before. Growing up with his brothers he had never been alone, even when wine bottles smashed on the floor and strange women’s shoes lay in a revolting pile in front of the door. There had always been voices, loud and strident and full of the kind of rage only liquor could bestow, but it had never been lonely.

Now there was quiet and the stars, and while Ludwig did not miss the shoes or the fights or the dark sobs in the other rooms he missed the comforting hand on his back and his brothers with their rough faces and voices before they had gone off to war and left him to trail along behind.

The tragedy of the poor was an ugly, uninteresting thing. It was easy to see why the servants clung to the gossip of the rich, where the most they had to fear was an abrupt change in fashion no one anticipated.

The moon was in full, its pale light streaming through the window in a river of silver. Chilled air swept along its banks, but even so Ludwig was reluctant to close the shutters. He listened to the dying insects outside, voices croaking in desperation for a mate before they were snuffed out.

He pulled the covers up to his nose, staring out the window at the patchwork of stars. It was beautiful. Clear and crisp and enough to distract him from the slight pangs he felt.

It was the fifth night in a row they had not had time together, and Ludwig’s extra duties tending to the earl had ensured they would most likely be separated for at least the rest of the month. Gilbert was understandably bitter, and Ludwig did all he could to soothe the younger man’s bad temperament, to little avail. Gilbert never was one for pitying comfort, and he had spurned Ludwig’s attempt at a pleasant good night by burrowing under the blankets and falling stubbornly silent. Ludwig was reminded of the lord’s young age, and he had left feeling old and tired and woefully, woefully incompetent.

The sky was beginning to lighten when Ludwig awoke from his drifting sleep, and he let out a heavy sigh for his own benefit and closed his eyes again. Earl Horschhorn was going into town to deliver some sort of report to the local hospital. It meant a more formal outfit, and while Gilbert’s wardrobe was horribly complicated compared to Ludwig’s own, it was nothing like his father’s. Ludwig could still hear Kirkland’s voice in his ear hiss and snapping at him like an angry goose whenever he missed a cufflink on the first try or handled a garment too roughly. Ludwig’s hands weren’t meant for delicate work, and it was making him on edge.

A soft creaking made him open his eyes, forgetting about the misery he was going to have to endure in only a few short hours time. He frowned slightly when he noticed that his door was ajar, but with no obvious culprit in sight. Ludwig was not fool enough to believe in anything resembling the supernatural, but still he sat up, mildly puzzled when the door shut on its own. A quiet scuffling from underneath the bed made him roll his eyes, however, and he finally settled down again, muttering, “You’re awfully foolhardy for so early in the morning.”

Two red eyes peered over the footboard, and a moment later Gilbert was perched atop it, a look of mild disappointment on his face. He had obviously tried to dress himself, but his collar was affixed poorly and his shirt was unbuttoned partway, showing the slight bruising that still remained around his neck and collarbone. Ludwig caught sight of the marks and had to look away, more than a little embarrassed that Gilbert felt no obvious shame at displaying his deviancy.

“And you don’t scare nearly easily enough,” Gilbert complained, his voice barely above a whisper. “Do you know how difficult it was to tie those strings to your door handles with you being none the wiser?”

“Is there some specific motivation behind this weak ploy or am I to understand that it is simply the result of aristocratic boredom?”

The look that crossed Gilbert’s face then was one of embarrassment and resignation. He plucked at Ludwig’s bedclothes and made a face.

“These are horrible. What thread count is this? Twenty?”

When Ludwig raised an eyebrow in warning, Gilbert cleared his throat and hastened to reply. “I… There is a slight chance I have been plotting contingency plans should we be unable to meet as we have been. It’s been – well, you know how it’s been. Dreadful. Simply awful and if you cannot stay upstairs then I thought I might venture down and if I’m caught I can simply stare down the perpetrator and threaten to fire them rather than have to weasel my way around some clever excuse although in retrospect there is nothing quite so suspicious as a threat of termination following a simple spotting of nobility in servant’s quarters God in heaven I am such a pathetic idiot.”

With a little groan following his rant, Gilbert toppled over onto the bed and stared up blankly at the ceiling. He sneezed.

“You do know that windows shut, don’t you? I understand you were raised in a mud hut but times are changing, farmhand. There’s this wonderful thing called ‘electricity’ as well that you may find fascinating. The next time you see a small outlet on the wall might I suggest a curious probing of its depths with a metal fork.”

Ludwig resigned himself to a night of little sleep and sat up. He gently took Gilbert’s arm and tugged him up to lay beside him, the young lord purposefully acting like a corpse and making the job as difficult as possible. Ludwig settled down again, wrapping his arm around Gilbert who needed no other encouragement to curl against Ludwig’s chest, letting out a contented sigh.

“You are an idiot,” Ludwig muttered, ignoring the slight punch to his hip. “My door is paper thin and servants are not even allowed the scant amount of privacy you are.”

“But Kirkland’s gone and the rest of the staff is terrified of you,” Gilbert rightfully pointed out, a sulky note to his voice. “If ever there was a time to sneak…”

“Just this once, Gilbert. Don’t push your luck.”

Gilbert fell silent after that, and when Ludwig cracked open an eye the miserable expression on the young lord’s face nearly made him take back his words. He tightened his grip around Gilbert’s shoulders and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. Gilbert gave him a baleful glare and muttered unkindly, “You are incredibly rude. After I risked life and limb to sneak down the stairs in the dark I am greeted with this surly churlish individual. Where is my doting farmhand? Have you hidden him in a closet or murdered him out of jealousy? Dissolved him in acid in your bathtub? Perhaps I am giving your murderous intent too much creative license.”

“He is still asleep, as you should be,” Ludwig said tiredly, Gilbert’s insults rolling off of him much more easily than they had in the past. “And I highly doubt he will return any time soon with the amount of libelous speech you’re slinging about.”

“How can the truth be libelous? Just because you were born with a thesaurus where your heart should be does not mean you can sling words about willy nilly.”

Ludwig laughed at that, the noise carefully muffled against his arm, and tugged Gilbert to rest more against him, the younger man complaining quietly about being manhandled.

“You give my intellect far too much credit,” Ludwig said, carefully placing a finger over Gilbert’s lips to stifle the inevitable insult that would have followed. Gilbert nipped at his finger in response but stayed blissfully quiet. Ludwig closed his eyes again, his body aching for sleep but his mind too wide awake to give in. Gilbert was running his fingers through his hair, his voice unusually soft as he spoke.

“Really, though, your vocabulary is such an oddity for your class they should stuff you after death and put you on display in a natural history museum,” he said absently, his fingers dutifully combing through Ludwig’s sideburns to tame them. “Or an unnatural one. Where they also put all of the weird deformities and obscenely large genitalia. And then in a glass box next to an engorged whale’s penis disguised cleverly as a giant’s, will be you. Standing majestic and tall and holding your own brain just to show the enlarged portions where your own intellect burst through your skull, causing your death.”

Ludwig hummed thoughtfully, his hand resting on the back of Gilbert’s head.

“I’ve never been to a museum.”

He felt Gilbert sit up, and after a moment opened his eyes to give the young lord a puzzled look. Gilbert looked flabbergasted but quickly composed himself under the older man’s scrutiny.

“I have no idea why that caught me by surprise,” he said with a little snort. “Thinking about whale penises most likely killed several more brain cells than I had allotted.” He leaned down to peer at Ludwig, a slightly excited look on his face.

“You would love museums,” he said solemnly. “They’re incredibly popular right now as I’m sure you kno—I cannot even finish that sentence with a straight face. They are popular. Now that so many nobles are donating their own private collections it’s astounding to see the sorts of things that have been squirreled away for years. The British Museum is one of the oldest in the world if memory serves, and they’ve just finished the new building…” He trailed off, a pensive look on his face.

“Would you mind if I accompanied you to my father’s rooms when you help him this morning?”

“No,” Ludwig said, mildly taken aback at the sudden transition. “It may raise a few eyebrows but the earl is well aware of your abnormal attachment to me.” He ducked and avoided the half-hearted swing. “But whatever for?”

“I believe I am scheduled to visit Grandmamma in London soon and now that I have a valet I would like to request his presence there as well,” Gilbert said slyly, an excited look on his face. “I would have to get permission from Grandmamma and Father but it would be wonderful to have a change of scenery. And ah the anonymity that comes with the city… it’s truly a wonderful thing. I could kick an old lady out of my way and the papers the next morning would not so much as mention it. Unlike a certain local printing press I’ve had my eye on destroying since my early years…”

Ludwig pushed himself up slightly, trying to contain his own interest and excitement. A trip to London would be wonderful indeed. To stay in a house where suspicions were not raised against them and to be allowed to venture out into the city as a traveling valet… if such a thing was even done. He honestly had no idea.

Gilbert was looking slightly nervous, though, and so Ludwig offered him a small smile and a gentle kiss of reassurance.

“I think that sounds absolutely delightful,” he said as sincerely as he possibly could, laughing quietly when Gilbert hit him with a pillow. He pushed the thing aside, his expression serious. “But aren’t you worried it might raise a few eyebrows here at home? I doubt anyone would say anything if we had his lordship’s blessing but it might make things difficult when we return.”

“We cannot live our lives controlled by the rumor mongering of our inferiors,” Gilbert said firmly, crossing his arms over his chest. “And soon enough those will all be quelled when Eliza is of age and I’ll whisk her off into the sunset and politely ask her to not ever touch me again but pretend like we are incredibly passionate lovers and she will divorce me in a heartbeat and I am starting to see how this will not exactly help our situation.”

The smile left Ludwig’s face and he folded his hands in his lap, his blue eyes turning frosty. It was the first time Gilbert had spoken about the engagement, despite Ludwig asking him time and time again to address it. He had no delusions about his position in Gilbert’s life. At the end of the day, he was a servant. He was shoved into a small, dark room completely devoid of ornate rugs and tapestries and trying to picture Gilbert trapped with him inside those walls made him incredibly sad. Unjust or not, Gilbert was born to more, and restricting that was one of the cruelest things Ludwig could think of.

“I highly doubt Eliza would enjoy that sham of a marriage,” Ludwig said as politely as he could. “But as you said that is a ways away. We do not need to address it now.”

Gilbert looked ready to bolt out the window despite the stubborn press of his lips.

“We do, though. At some point, maybe not now,” he said quietly. “It’s a reality I wish I did not have to wake to but even attempting to belittle it away has done me no semblance of good, so I am resigning myself to having this conversation.” He let out a heavy sigh, his fringe blowing up out of his eyes before settling back down again, and in that moment he appeared to Ludwig so young and frightened and miserable that he could not help but want to comfort him.

Ludwig rested a gentle hand on Gilbert’s arm and gave him a reassuring smile.

“I think you will still be happy with her,” he said as bravely as he could, even as his stomach sank at the thought.

“Well it isn’t as though I will have to give this up,” Gilbert said loftily, a bold look on his face. “Eliza will understand, and –”

“I won’t be party to adultery, Gilbert,” said Ludwig, immediately growing sick at the thought of the shoes in front of his parent’s door. “I cannot… I cannot add another sin to this. And think of poor Eliza –”

“It isn’t as though she feels those things for me,” Gilbert snapped, furious. “She is a child and regards me as a playmate and a brother. How could I do that to her? Force her to be my wife and lie with me and pretend I do not notice the childish way she flirts with Roderich and torments him the way a school boy does the girl he fancies. I would rather live a lie than tether her to me like cattle. And if she had any idea of our circumstances I cannot imagine her saying anything to the contrary.”

“But to force her to carry the burden of this as well would be too cruel,” Ludwig said softly, his voice lacking any conviction. It was obvious from the way Eliza laughed and smiled so freely with Gilbert that she harbored no romantic attachments. At least for the time being. She was still young and that of course very well could change but Ludwig still remembered the look of misery on her face when the engagement was announced.

The look Gilbert gave him made Ludwig’s stomach turn, but he remained fast to his point and stubbornly met Gilbert’s eyes.

“You would give this up rather than hurt her with our deviance?” Gilbert asked, his voice clinical and detached. “Assuming it lasts long enough to be an issue.”

“Don’t throw me to the wolves so quickly for being honest, Gilbert,” said Ludwig, feeling old and weary once more. “Eliza deserves honesty and happiness. Whether she finds that with you or someone else, I am not one to say.”

Gilbert’s fingers clutched at the bed spread, his knuckles white.

“I can think of so many horrible things to whisper in your ear right now,” he said, his voice shaking with the effort to keep quiet. “And I want to so badly but how – … how can I rightfully hate you for being a better man and caring for her. Even if it feels as though you are enjoying tearing me apart and feasting on the insides and making me pathetically hollow.”

Gilbert pressed a hand against his face, turning away to have a moment of privacy.

Ludwig watched Gilbert silently fall apart, his hands shaking very slightly. This was why he had been dreading the conversation, even though he had been the one pushing it to the surface for days. Although there was still not a name for whatever it was between them it was still fragile enough that imposing a time constraint on it threatened to snuff it out completely. Gilbert was one to treat things dear to him as though they were a lark, and the more he joked about their odd relationship the more Ludwig knew it was becoming more than just an indulgence. The boy was painfully easy to read, and if he really were the kind of man Gilbert thought him to be he would have put a limit to things a long time ago before the roots of a name took hold of his fetid imagination.

“Perhaps it is best, then, that we do not take this any further than we already have,” he said quietly, bracing himself for what he imagined would follow.

Gilbert wiped at his eyes and turned around, his expression stony.

“I don’t want that,” he said stubbornly. “I’m too selfish and greedy and all sorts of terrible things to want to relinquish anything. And if you try and make me then I will throw an enormous fit and go running to Kirkland and we will most likely be found out but I don’t care. I would rather be shamed and jailed than have to give up something I want.”

Ludwig stared at Gilbert, completely flabbergasted.

“You… that is the most incredibly selfish thing I have ever heard anyone say,” he said slowly. “Think of how your mother would feel. How his lordship would feel if he ever found out. What could happen to me… You would be shamed but Gilbert, I—if they think I’ve… done things then I could be far, far worse than merely jailed. You do understand that, don’t you?”

Gilbert’s expression wavered slightly and he looked down at the bed, worrying at his bottom lip. Every so often he would wipe a hand across his face.

The silence was killing Ludwig.

“Gilbert… please, say something,” he said quietly, reaching out to brush the backs of his fingers over Gilbert’s cheek. The young lord jerked away and flashed him a bitter glare.

“What’s there to say, Ludwig?” he muttered, curling in on himself. “I obviously want more than you are willing to give. My only wish is that you had said so sooner.”

“I didn’t mean that,” Ludwig said, slightly frustrated. He moved in again to try and take Gilbert’s hand but the younger man pushed him away and hissed, “Don’t touch me,” in a vile and caustic voice.

That made Ludwig move back, feeling angry and hurt and completely at his wit’s end. Only a few minutes ago they had been joking and planning a trip to London. Gilbert had the incredible ability to sour a conversation with only a few words, and Ludwig still was not adept enough at handling him to quickly recover.

He stared at Gilbert, taking in the younger man’s defensive posture and the shine on his cheeks and only then did he finally think to ask, “What do you want from me that I appear unwilling to offer? I am in no way attempting to play the martyr but I have already risked so much for you.” He ran his fingers through his hair, missing Gilbert’s touch now that it was being actively denied him. “I thought that the reason you had not mentioned Eliza before was because you had already accepted the inevitability of how this must all end. Even if it is not with Eliza then someone else will take her place in that regard. Your parents… the entire community will not be satisfied if you remain a bachelor. You are still young but the years you have left where you can use that as an excuse grow fewer and fewer, and soon there will be questions that you will not be able to answer without condemning yourself. I had assumed that I would simply slip out of the picture at some point after you had exhausted your interest in me or…”

He trailed off when he noticed Gilbert’s shoulders shaking and heard the pathetic noises of someone attempting to be stoic and failing miserably. He watched Gilbert with a sad expression on his face, unsure of what else he could say.

Gilbert finally lifted his head, a mean, nasty look taking hold of him before he seemed to shove it away, only to appear defeated.

“I was living in delusion, then,” he muttered, slowly uncurling to lie down on the bed, making a face at the rough sheets. “I assumed that by virtue of ignoring that most painful of issues that it would cease to be. That another option would present itself but unfortunately you speak the truth. There is no other recourse. Not for me.”

He cast Ludwig a bitter smile.

“I envy your freedom.”

Ludwig returned the smile as best he could, cautiously offering Gilbert his hand and relieved when the younger man finally accepted it. He threaded their fingers together and pressed a soft kiss to Gilbert’s thumb.

“It is all we middling classes have,” he said quietly. “Don’t begrudge us.”

“I won’t,” Gilbert said with a weak laugh, pushing himself up again while keeping a firm hold on Ludwig’s hand. “Goodness, I am not that miserly.” He let out a heavy sigh and slumped to the side, resting against Ludwig’s shoulder.

The two sat in silence for a long while, Ludwig watching the sky grow pale and listening to the uneven sounds of Gilbert’s breathing.

“I may have… an idea,” the young lord suddenly said, his voice cautious. Ludwig hummed a questioning note and glanced down at Gilbert, one eyebrow raised.

Gilbert’s brows were furrowed but there was a slightly excited gleam to his eye.

“Clearly the problem that we are currently presented with is twofold. One is that I, by virtue of my birth, must produce an heir to the estate. The second is that it is now assumed that Eliza and I will be the ones…” He fumbled for words and Ludwig generously supplied, “Producing.”

“Yes, producing, thank you,” Gilbert said graciously, kissing Ludwig’s cheek in thanks. “Unfortunately, I have no desire to go near that… er…”

“…Production line.”

“Yes! Yes production line, no desire at all. Foul place, I am sure, although the top half isn’t all that bad—”

“Moving on, please.”

“Ah, right. Yes. So therefore the simplest recourse would be to probably jump off a cliff. That would absolve me of all responsibilities, however I believe my soul is already in danger enough without adding offing oneself to the list and so a more subtle plan of action is required.”

“It is a very good thing we are not at war right now, your troops would be slaughtered before you ever got to your plan of attack.”

Gilbert good-naturedly punched Ludwig in the ribs and then continued, growing more and more animated with each word.

“If the peanut gallery would kindly give me a moment I will get to my point. Now, I may have no desire to see Eliza’s… production factory, but I can all but guarantee there is another in this household that does not feel that way.”

Ludwig frowned, not understanding for a moment before it dawned on him just as Gilbert rubbed his hands together and said, “Rodie. Yes, little Rodie is the key to my freedom.”

“He’s a year her junior, though,” Ludwig pointed out, trying not to feel too hopeful. “And you have no concrete proof that he would be at all pleased with that change of fate for him.”

“Honestly, Eliza is far too good for him but she seems to lack the common sense that would allow her to select a better match,” Gilbert said with a little sigh. “And it would be a horrible thing to watch their courtship but as long as I am able to seek solace in you I believe I will survive.”

Ludwig bit his lip to hide his smile and leaned down to nuzzle Gilbert’s ear.

“So your grand plan is to…?”

Gilbert laughed quietly and pushed at Ludwig’s shoulder, his red eyes wide with excitement.

“To get them together, of course. And stop that it tickles, you need to shave,” he complained, rubbing his fingers along Ludwig’s slightly scratchy jaw. “And it is a brilliant plan, completely working within the parameters set forth for us. My father did say that if Eliza or I found someone else the engagement would be broken, and while I have of course found another someone by virtue of his… lack of production facility I’m afraid my case would not make a very convincing one. However if Eliza were to confess to my father her own latent feelings for Roderich I cannot imagine he would be pitiless enough to insist that she remain tethered to me. It is perfect. Utterly perfect I am a genius on par with Galileo.”

“Yes, master Galileo, famous for his matchmaker ways,” Ludwig deadpanned, catching Gilbert’s hand before the younger man could flick his forehead. “Although I must admit as far as your ideas go it holds water. Much more than that cliff idea, I don’t care for that one. Far too messy.”

“Isn’t it brilliant?” Gilbert patted himself on the back. Ludwig enjoyed watching him struggle to do so while keeping a hold on his hand. “At any rate we will have to move very carefully. Roderich is stubborn and stupid and that complicates everything. It will be like trying to show a lame horse that it is in love with a swan while simultaneously convincing the swan that the horse is its soulmate. Difficult stuff.”

“Difficult indeed. But I know few men as conniving as you. I am sure you will be able to pull it off,” Ludwig said graciously, moving to stand. Gilbert’s hand on his arm stopped him, and he was met with a pair of piercing red eyes.

“Oh, not ‘me,’ farmhand,” Gilbert purred, a devilish smile on his face. “I’m afraid it is ‘we.’”

“No,” Ludwig said flatly, returning Gilbert’s stare. “No, Gilbert, I will ruin everything. I am no good at subtleties, you know that.”

Gilbert’s expression morphed into a pout without a moment’s notice. His bottom lip began to tremble and he scooted forward on the bed, clinging to Ludwig’s arm.

“But… Ludwig. This is our only hope,” he said tearfully. “I never thought your affections would run so shallow…”

Ludwig opened his mouth to protest, but the look of utter betrayal on Gilbert’s face made it hard to get the words out. Even if it was completely affected. Finally he groaned and looked away, his face lightly flushed.

“Damn you,” he muttered. “Fine. I will help but only within legal parameters. I don’t want you to order me to… I don’t know, steal one of Eliza’s handkerchiefs and plant it somewhere on Roderich’s person.”

“Wonderful,” Gilbert said cheerfully, immediately releasing Ludwig and falling back on the bed again. “And that is a fabulous idea. The old handkerchief in the pocket. The old one two. Maybe we should spray some of that horrible perfume of hers on it too. Help psychologically link the two of them via scent.”

“As long as you are the one doing the stealing,” Ludwig said wearily, resigning himself. “I could get fired for something like that while you would only get a few askance glances.”

“Yes, yes,” Gilbert said absently, waving his hand about. “Now go shave so I can kiss you properly. I’m developing a rash.” He rubbed at his face as though to prove his point, and Ludwig headed into the bathroom to get ready for the day. He had just lathered up when Gilbert entered the bathroom and perched atop the toilet, staring at him expectantly.

Ludwig paused, the razor a hair’s breadth away from his skin.

“…Yes?”

“Father has yet to teach me how to shave, and so I am choosing to make you feel uncomfortable by placing you temporarily in that role,” Gilbert said cheerfully. “Also I wanted to talk to you and it makes me feel like a slight lunatic to talk to an empty room.”

“Oh. Well…” Ludwig bent down and washed his face clean of lather, deciding that if he was going to be humiliated by this he may as well do it properly. He quickly made up a new batch of lather and reapplied it, not bothering to narrate his actions. Gilbert was no idiot; he could figure it out for himself. He showed Gilbert the safety blade and how to change one, again, wordlessly, and then began to shave. Gilbert watched the proceedings with a look of mild curiosity on his face and then said absently, “Kirkland shaves my father’s beard with a straight razor. Do you not know how to use one?”

“Wha—you little brat, you already knew all of this didn’t you?” Ludwig said accusingly, pausing to cast Gilbert an exasperated look before resuming his work.

“I said my father hadn’t taught me. You will notice Kirkland’s name was absent from that part of the conversation,” Gilbert said cheerfully. “And straight razors scare the dickens out of me. I have no desire to use one ever.” He rubbed at his jaw again and frowned. “Although I seem to be distinctly lacking in facial hair, save for a few patches here and there.”

“Some men have difficulty growing beards. It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” said Ludwig, rinsing his razor and the cup and then quickly washing his face. He pushed himself away from the sink, his hair wet and water dripping into his eyes and was presented with a towel. He took it with a small smile of thanks and dried off before bending down to catch Gilbert’s eyes.

“Better?” he asked, his smile softening when Gilbert’s fingers ran over his jaw, the look of concentration on Gilbert’s face adorably sincere.

“…Much,” Gilbert said finally, looking pleased, and a moment later he leaned forward to press his lips gently against Ludwig’s.

Ludwig’s stomach flipped with excitement and it took all he had not to deepen the kiss. It was still early in the day and he had to attend to his lordship far too soon to allow things to progress as they had several nights before. When Gilbert’s warm tongue ran questioningly over his lips he reluctantly pulled away, flashing the younger man an apologetic smile. Gilbert whined in protest and clung to him more, an injured expression on his face.

“You’re horrid,” he complained, his lips trembling again in feigned distress, and Ludwig was too kind not to indulge him slightly.

“I know,” Ludwig said gently, pressing his fingers against the little bruises coloring Gilbert’s neck and collar. “But I was a bit too… aggressive the last time and we cannot afford to make these sorts of mistakes. What if someone else were to see?”

“You’re the only one who would,” Gilbert mumbled petulantly, but his cheeks colored slightly nonetheless. He reached up to self-consciously touch them as well, his eyes narrowing with a predatory gleam.

“But what if I were to say I was fond of that particular kind of aggression?” he murmured, his free hand running up Ludwig’s chest with a kind of tantalizing languidness that made Ludwig shudder and start to reconsider his resolve. He grabbed Gilbert’s hand and shot him a warning look.

“Then I would say that there is a time and a place for everything, and that time and place is certainly not a few minutes before we are going up to see your father.”

Gilbert’s lips drew into a thin line of displeasure but finally he sighed.

“Fine!” he said dramatically, throwing his hands up in the air. “Torture me with your beauty and then deny me access to it. You create the cruelest of torments by showing me these pleasures and then never repeating them.”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t… Gilbert, stop that,” Ludwig muttered, starting to feel guilty despite himself. Gilbert had a way of manipulating him that he was still not overly comfortable with, and the needy glances thrown his way weren’t helping.

Gilbert laughed and pushed himself to his feet, patting Ludwig’s cheek in a sympathetic manner.

“Perhaps next time I should subject you to this, hm?” he murmured, tugging down his collar even more to reveal the rest of the bruises and marks that still remained, far darker than the ones higher up. “You certainly seemed to enjoy yourself… I am sure with a bit of practice I would as well.”

Ludwig swallowed heavily, an uncomfortable heat racing through his body that he quickly tried to extinguish by splashing more water on his face. He heard Gilbert laugh again, but before he could curse the younger man for his exhibitionism slim arms wrapped around his waist and hugged him from behind. He stood up, blinking water out of his eyes and glanced at them in the mirror. There was a slightly melancholic look on Gilbert’s face, and he caught the younger man’s gaze in the mirror, a questioning look in his own.

Gilbert tightened his arms around him and moved to press his forehead against Ludwig’s back.

“You asked what I wanted from you that you were unable to give,” he said quietly, and Ludwig tensed at the resurrection of the unpleasant conversation.

“I did,” he said quietly, unsure if he wanted to hear the rest of Gilbert’s statement.

Gilbert fell silent for a long time before his hands moved slowly down to rest against Ludwig’s stomach, his fingertips brushing against the waistband of Ludwig’s trousers.

“You still treat me as though I am made of glass at times,” he said quietly. “That night you… you finally didn’t but afterwards you punished yourself for it. I told you over and over that I was fine but you still grew angry and terse and asked for my forgiveness and I hated it. You groveling like that in apology when you gave me what I could not voice. And that… that is what I want. To not be a glass decoration on your shelf that you take care of and panic if it cracks. I want you to take care of me of course but to also let me take care of you for as long as I possibly can. I want…”

Gilbert’s voice grew so soft Ludwig had to strain to hear him over the sound of the dripping faucet.

“I want… you, Ludwig.”

Gilbert’s arms tightened around Ludwig, his body pressed flush against the older man’s.

Ludwig was in a state of mild distress as Gilbert’s hands drifted lower and lower, and the heat against his back was making it difficult to concentrate on anything else. The simple words took a moment to register their complete sincerity, but when Ludwig finally understood his face grew pale. He wished he could see Gilbert’s expression, to know if what the young lord was asking of him was what he hoped and feared it was, but before he could so much as speak Gilbert suddenly patted his stomach and turned to leave the bathroom.

“I need help with this collar, farmhand, I hate these old-fashioned detachable ones,” the young lord grumbled.

“Of… of course,” Ludwig said slowly, his knuckles white as he gripped the sink, trying to control his sudden trepidation and the even worse longing that threatened to take hold of him completely. He splashed water on his face again and pinched his arm, giving himself something other than his growing problem to focus on before he felt composed enough to venture back into his room. He ignored Gilbert and dressed in silence, trusting that the younger man would look away to afford him some privacy. Once his hair was taken care of he turned to help Gilbert, horribly embarrassed to find Gilbert staring at him with a teasing grin on his face.

“Something on your mind?” he asked innocently.

“Hush,” Ludwig muttered, reaching out to fix Gilbert’s collar. It had been starched beyond belief and he worked some of it out to make it more comfortable before attaching it to Gilbert’s shirt. “You really should ask your mother for some new shirts. These are out of style, or so I’m told. Apparently the popular fashion now is attached collars and some sort of knee-length trouser, according to the women in the kitchens.”

“Mother did always prefer the out of date styles for some reason,” Gilbert languished, reaching up to fix Ludwig’s tie. “Perhaps when we are in London I can ask her for money to pick out some newer clothes…”

“That would be a great help, yes,” Ludwig said, standing up with a small smile. “I need to fetch breakfast for myself before I help your father. I’m afraid it would be stupidly forward of you to come with me to the kitchens but perhaps you would like to head upstairs ahead of me?”

“I suppose,” Gilbert said with a heavy sigh. He pushed himself to his feet and glanced at himself in the mirror on Ludwig’s wall, preening slightly.

“Goodness. It’s amazing Eliza doesn’t want me as part of her, er… assembly line, considering the perfection of my bone structure,” the young lord mused, prodding at his cheeks and nose.

“Yes. Amazing,” Ludwig repeated in a deadpan voice, laughing when Gilbert stared at him in clear injury. He soothingly patted the boy’s shoulder but then said quietly, “I’m going to be late if you keep me much longer. And I can hear the rest of the staff waking up…”

“Fine, fine,” Gilbert said dramatically, heading to the door. “I will see you in a bit.”

He carefully opened the door and peered into the hallway. The coast must have been clear for a moment later he slipped out, shutting the door behind him.

Ludwig sat down on the bed and waited an appropriate amount of time before leaving himself. He hurried down to the kitchens and grabbed some bread before making his way to the manor proper, eating on the way. With Kirkland gone the staff was much more likely to harass and tease him about Gilbert and he wanted none of it. He was waiting for the day when they grew bored with him and his lack of antics and would finally leave him alone. He was mildly surprised that I had yet to arrive but he guessed that someone (most likely Alex) was keeping the pot stirred.

He would have to deal with him eventually.

Ludwig polished off the bread just before stepping through the door into the upstairs, and already down the hall he could hear Gilbert’s excited voice and the earl’s booming one. The conversation sounded pleasant enough and it made Ludwig relax. Normally he hated waiting on the earl – Kirkland’s spirit haunted him still – but with Gilbert there he would feel more at ease. Hopefully.

He rapped on the door and waited for permission to enter before stepping inside. Gilbert was sitting on the bed while his father was at his desk as usual. Gilbert turned to face him when he entered, a happy smile on his face.

“Father thinks it’s a wonderful idea if we head into London soon,” he said cheerfully, and Ludwig returned the polite smile with a carefully controlled one of his own.

“You are too generous, my lord,” he said gratefully, and the earl laughed.

“Gilbert hardly gave me a choice in the matter,” he said, standing to move to his son’s side and ruffling his hair. “He insisted that he had reached a block in his studies and needed concrete inspiration, and what better place to be inspired than a museum? When he told me you had expressed reserved interest as well I felt much more positive about the trip. I will not be able to accompany you and so I am relieved to know that Gilbert will still be with someone I trust.”

The guilty feelings were growing easier to ignore every time the earl proclaimed his trust in him, and so Ludwig was able to naturally return the smile.

“Thank you all the same, my lord. Lord Gilbert was quite enthusiastic about the prospect and I must admit that he made me curious as well,” Ludwig said, moving to select one of the earl’s suits from the wardrobe. Lord Horschhorn laughed again and then said pleasantly, “Yes, Gilbert has the tendency to spread his enthusiasm about when he is truly interested in something. All I ask is that the trip be postponed until after the fox hunt coming up. With Kirkland gone I am afraid I will have to ask you to act as valet for me and several guests. Of course, you are welcome to accompany us as well, should you wish. As a footman, of course, but still. Do you have any experience in hunting?”

“No, my lord, I’m afraid I do not,” Ludwig said, buttoning the earl’s shirt for him. He could feel Gilbert watching him, but when he risked a glance at the young lord all he received in return was an enigmatic smile.

“A shame. It is an elegant sport, although I feel we will not be able to continue the tradition for much longer,” the earl said, true sadness in his voice.

“Do I have to go this time, Father?” Gilbert suddenly spoke up. “Considering my track record I would think –”

“You will be accompanying us, yes,” Lord Horschhorn said without a moment’s pause. “This hunt is partially to ease the surrounding gentry into accepting you as my current heir. It would be foolish to show a weak hand so soon.”

Gilbert let out an overwrought sigh but finally he nodded. “Very well,” he muttered. “Although I won’t like it.”

“I am sorry to hear that,” the earl said, and there was true apology in his voice. “I know hunting is not your favorite pastime but some traditions must be upheld to maintain the peace if nothing else.”

Ludwig had finished dressing the earl by then and grabbed the brush and tailoring set to do his final check. The earl’s outfit that day was a bit dressier and as such Ludwig felt pressured to take extra care ensuring that not a thread was out of place. The earl and Gilbert continued to talk while he worked, and after only a few minutes there came a knock on the door.

“Uncle?”

It was Roderich’s timid voice.

“Come in,” Lord Horchhorn called out. The door opened a crack and Roderich peered inside. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but froze when he caught sight of Ludwig. He withdrew slightly and then muttered, “Auntie wants to see you before breakfast. She told me to come fetch you…”

“Tell her I will be down shortly,” the earl said with a gentle smile. Roderich gave a sharp nod and then quickly closed the door. Gilbert immediately burst into laughter and cast an amused look Ludwig’s way.

“He certainly is no fan of yours, farmhand,” he teased.

“Gilbert, manners,” Lord Horschhorn said warningly. “Mr. Schmidt has a name. Although you do have a point, Roderich does seem a bit… wary. I do apologize, Schmidt, I am certain it is through no fault of your own.”

“No apology is necessary, my lord,” Ludwig said, standing up to put his tools away. “I can only assume it is because of my stature that he finds me intimidating.”

“He is no fan of mine either,” Gilbert said with a little snort. “Jealousy will do that to a man.”

“The boy has only just turned thirteen, do give him a bit of leeway, Gilbert,” Lord Horschhorn said, inspecting himself in the mirror. He smiled at Ludwig. “And I must say, Schmidt, you have gotten remarkable adept at this in your short time here. Bravo.”

Ludwig’s cheeks flushed slightly and he gave a polite bow. “Through the tutelage of others, my lord, nothing more,” he mumbled, and Gilbert laughed again.

“Lud – Schmidt is always so humble, it really is annoying,” Gilbert said cheerfully, ignoring his father’s warning look.

“Regardless, the house is much better off with you here,” the earl said, smiling at Ludwig again. “The hunt is the day after tomorrow, and after that we will make arrangements for you to accompany Gilbert to London for a month or so. We will miss you here, although I believe Alex will jump at the chance to act as interim valet. It will be a good test for him.”

Lord Horschhorn adjusted his watch and then headed to the door. “I trust you can see yourself out, Schmidt. Gilbert, I expect you at breakfast.”

Gilbert gave his father a little salute and Ludwig bowed politely again.

The earl shut the door behind him, and the moment the sound of his footsteps faded away Gilbert pounced.

Ludwig staggered backwards, trying to hold on to Gilbert and keep from falling. The young lord’s face was an unattractive molted red from excitement, but Ludwig was too gracious to point it out. He smiled, puzzled, down at Gilbert.

“Yes?”

“We get to go to London,” Gilbert said smugly, dancing a bit in Ludwig’s arms. “Just the two of us. Well, and possibly Roderich and Eliza, it would be a very good opportunity to set the seeds of our plan in motion but I haven’t decided yet if I am willing to relinquish time with you just for their sake.”

“How exactly does one set seeds in motion? Rolling them down a hill?” Ludwig asked politely.

“Ha ha, aren’t we charming, let’s mock the noble’s misuse of idioms,” Gilbert drawled, but the exited look never left his face. He gave Ludwig a quick kiss and then sprang away like a jackrabbit, all nervous energy and twitchy limbs.

“There’s the matter of the hunt to deal with – I’d forgotten all about it which is incredibly bothersome – but I do love shooting a gun even if I am a terrible shot. I miss on purpose, we will say. Poor foxes, with their adorably sly faces. I hate to kill them…”

 

Gilbert let out a heavy sigh and then sat down on the bed again, a pensive look on his face.

“There will be hordes of people showing up tomorrow, I imagine you will be very busy…” he said quietly, and Ludwig could practically hear the dejection in his voice. Ludwig sat down as well, and after making sure the door was indeed shut, wrapped an arm around Gilbert’s shoulders. Gilbert returned the gesture, patting Ludwig’s shoulder a bit awkwardly.

“There, there, farmhand, there’s no need to be so depressed,” he said gently.

“Yes. Clearly I am the one suffering from depression,” Ludwig deadpanned, but still he leaned forward to try and kiss away Gilbert’s frown. It worked, slightly, and a moment later Gilbert shifted to sit in his lap, a very pleased look on his face.

“While we are apart, I suggest we each try and devise a plan for Operation ER,” Gilbert said primly, pressing his fingertips together. “That’s Eliza and Roderich, do try and keep up. Mine of course will be far superior, but it does not hurt to hear rejected ideas as well in hopes of further inspiration.”

“How kind you are to my intellect,” Ludwig muttered, wanting another kiss but slightly miffed and thus unwilling to give in to his baser desires. He rested his hands on Gilbert’s hips to keep him balanced and opened his mouth to speak but a noise at the door made him quickly stand and push Gilbert away. The young lord fell heavily to the floor with a loud curse just as the door opened and a maid stepped in. She let out a startled gasp and took a step backwards, her hand over her chest.

“Mr. Schmidt, oh you gave me a fright,” she said weakly, fanning herself. “Whatever was that noise?”

Ludwig could barely hear the woman, his heart was pounding so loudly in his ears, and he stood frozen, unable to move.

Gilbert picked himself up off the floor with a little groan, and the maid squeaked again with alarm.

“L-Lord Gilbert,” she stammered, her blue eyes darting back and forth between them. “What –”

“Peace, Sofia,” Gilbert said crossly, shuffling about with all the dignity of a grounded starling. “We were in the process of examining the contents of my father’s wardrobe for the hunt the day after next and your sudden intrusion startled my valet so much he nearly shut the wardrobe door on me.”

The girl’s face grew pale and she stammered an apology that Ludwig did not hear. He slowly calmed down when he realized that it was highly unlikely she had actually seen anything, and he thanked God that she was one of the sweeter ones, although her sister, the cold, blue eyed woman whose name escaped him, would most likely hear of the incident still and be able to piece things together.

A light tapping on his shoulder startled Ludwig out of his darker thoughts, and Gilbert gestured for him to follow.

“We will return after breakfast. You’ll be finished then, yes?”

Sofia nodded, clutching the bucket of ash against her chest and offering Ludwig a weak smile.

“I am so sorry, Mr. Schmidt, I did not think anyone was still in he—”

“It’s fine. Speak no more of it,” Ludwig muttered, brushing past her.

The girl immediately nodded again, a nervous look on her face as she watched them leave.

Once out in the relative safety of the hall, Gilbert’s irritated posturing fell away and he leaned against the wall.

“That was far too close,” he muttered, his eyes darting nervously down the length of the hallway.

“Indeed,” Ludwig said softly, his nerves still shaken. “It was foolish of me to be so bold.”

“It was foolish of me to encourage your boldness, and we could play this game all day but someone would inevitably hear so let us save it for another time,” Gilbert said tersely, pushing himself away from the wall and heading towards the main staircase. “Come to my room after breakfast. I will need some help getting things ready for the hunt.”

“As you wish, my lord,” Ludwig said softly, risking one last glance at the earls’ door over his shoulder.

They parted ways and Ludwig headed down to the kitchens to help the cooks and footmen get breakfast ready to be served, all the while replaying that moment over and over again in his head. He had stood up fast enough. He was pretty sure of it. And the wardrobe had been open… It was not an unlikely story, but still he felt a cold hand grip his chest at the thought that their fate now potentially rested in the hands of a shy scullery maid.

The situation was less than ideal.


	17. (A)ffliction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i got tired of things not happening and then whoops poetic license. and oh god i must have rewritten this thing five thousand times and i still loathe it so.
> 
> ludwig is kind of a drama queen he deserves his own reality television program.
> 
> The Valet ™

Guests had arrived in droves the night before the hunt. So many, in fact, that the staff had to forgo their usual greeting as carriage upon carriage pulled up around the circle driveway and deposited on the steps lords and earls and other titles Ludwig could not be bothered remembering. With Kirkland gone, he was in charge, and being in charge during a hunt apparently meant yelling at a lot of people for their woeful incompetence. Horses had to be groomed and shoed and dogs had to be corralled and fed and meals had to be coordinated and served in the grand dining room as opposed to the smaller family one and in the middle of it all was Ludwig. Barely holding on despite his aptitude for yelling.  
The staff must have picked up on his insecurity, as one after another they came up and asked him tens of ridiculous questions he in no way felt qualified to answer, and every time they left it was with a smirk playing around their lips. Mostly good natured, but some of them (Alex in particular) had wolfish grins that never left their features and made Ludwig decidedly on edge.

Gilbert and the rest of the family were likewise preoccupied with tending to the social needs of their guests, and the children were being pushed up into the attic rooms for the night so their proper rooms could be used by guests the other wing could not hold. Gilbert had thrown a bit of a fit but when Vash reprimanded him Gilbert composed himself, obviously embarrassed at being chastised by his younger cousin.

Ludwig was relieved when Earl Horschhorn called him to his side for the rest of the day, allowing him to focus on serving just the lord and his few closest guests. It was mostly boring work – fetching drinks and clipping cigars and providing the sort of dry ‘very good, sir’ responses that most butlers seemed to thrive on. Ludwig did not envy Kirkland his job. It was horribly boring being subjected to conversation he could not participate in and having to wait hand and foot on men who treated him like a shadow. Taking for granted that he would always be there, moving with them and never in the way.

Gilbert had always seen him. Maybe that was why serving these men was so difficult. He’d been spoiled into forgetting his place on more than one occasion, and towards the end of the day Ludwig had to admit that the experience was, perhaps, for the best. It wouldn’t do if he could only operate under the conditions Gilbert stipulated. He would not be able to find work elsewhere, should his position at the manor be terminated for whatever reason.

The morning of the hunt, with his future prospects and independence at stake, Ludwig woke bright and early and went to wake the children and Gilbert. The attic rooms were primarily used for Roderich, Eliza, and Vash’s lessons, although they still showed signs of having been a nursery once, with small beds build into the walls. Lady Horschhorn had tasked him with waking the children so the maids wouldn’t have to deal with them. Apparently all three of the children were absolute terrors in the morning, unlike their older cousin.

Ludwig carefully made his way up the stairs and opened the door to the attic. He could dimly see the three children still sleeping, but the fourth bed was empty. Gilbert was perched on the windowsill, staring pensively out into the gardens.

Ludwig shut the door behind him and made his way forward, moving slowly so as not to wake the sleepers. He came to a stop a few inches behind Gilbert and rested his hand on the young lord’s shoulder.

“Good morning,” he said softly, biting back a smile when Gilbert tilted his head back and fixed him with a despondent look.

“I was locked up here like an elegant rabbit amidst a bunch of wolves,” he said morosely, leaning back to rest against Ludwig. “They refused to let me rest or read. We had to play tag until Mrs. Peeters came up and scolded us. Us, Ludwig. Not just them. I was dragged into it too and I had to sit in the corner like a little dunce child…”

Ludwig made a quiet noise of sympathy and after checking to make sure Gilbert’s cousins were still sleeping peacefully, wrapped an arm around the younger man and hugged him against his chest.

“It is rather aggravating how his lordship and her ladyship treat you as an adult only when it suits them. Do you need help getting ready for the day?” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to Gilbert’s ear. Gilbert squirmed in his grasp and Ludwig quickly let go, not wanting to risk too much or upset him. Gilbert seemed to be in one of his moods. It was always difficult to tell whether he was joking or not.

“Please, dear, not in front of the children,” the young lord muttered, pushing himself up. “Rodie would have a heart attack if he saw affection displayed in front of him. Poor thing is stunted. Eliza is in for one hell of a marriage should our plan come to fruition. And no, I believe I have figured out how buttons work after years of study. Your assistance will not be required today.”

“He’ll warm up to her. And very well,” Ludwig murmured, kneeling next to Vash’s bed and gently shaking the boy’s shoulder.

Vash’s blue eyes snapped open and his hand darted out to grab Ludwig’s wrist, an almost terrified look on his face before he settled down again, blinking sleepily.

“Gilbert’s valet,” he mumbled, rolling over to press his face into the pillow while Ludwig shook out his hand, feeling more than a bit apprehensive. The youngest Horschhorn was wound tighter than a clock spring.

“Yes, Master Vash. You need to get up,” he said, trying to keep his voice kind but firm. This was usually Peeters’ job but she had her hands full supervising the kitchen staff and the preparation of portable lunches for the hunt.

Vash merely grunted and swatted at him. Ludwig made an irritated noise but before he could try again he felt a hand on his shoulder and Gilbert’s arrogant voice drawled, “Leave him to me. Go wake the mole and Eliza.”

“Your mother would scalp you if she knew about that nickname,” Ludwig muttered, heading over to the sleeping Roderich’s bed to wake him. He gently shook the boy’s shoulder, hoping for a less aggressive response this time. Roderich’s eyes opened slowly and he stared at Ludwig before letting out a little squeak and shying away. Ludwig smiled as kindly as he could.

“Good morning, Master Roderich. It’s time to get up.”

“Wh—all right,” the boy said weakly, obviously not wanting to put up a fight.

Ludwig stood and made his way to Eliza’s bed, but she was already sitting up and scrubbing blearily at her eyes.

“Mm… Ludwig, what’re you doin’ here,” she mumbled, peering up at him.

He gave the young girl a little smile and pressed a finger to his lips. “Top secret, I’m afraid, my lady. If you wouldn’t mind assisting your cousin with the two younger ones, I need to be heading back downstairs.”

Eliza gave a sleepy nod and pushed herself out of bed, padding over to Roderich’s. She grabbed his foot and started dragging him towards the edge, laughing when his shrieks of protest rang out against the walls.

Ludwig caught Gilbert’s eye through the din and gave the young lord a small smile of farewell, receiving a weary one in return. He would see Gilbert later when the hunt began. He’d been allotted the privilege of having a horse and would be accompanying the riders for the entire day. The visiting lords and earls had made a fuss the previous day about Lord Horschhorn kowtowing to socialist agendas, but the earl had simply laughed and said that he was merely fond of Schmidt and not to read too much into these things.

With one last glance to make sure Gilbert had his cousins under control, Ludwig slipped out of the room and headed downstairs to the chaos in the kitchens. Mrs. Peeters was barking orders like a drill sergeant, and soon Ludwig found himself helping the footmen carry dishes upon dishes of food upstairs for breakfast. While the nobles ate, the staff headed en masse out to the stables to make sure the horses were properly outfitted. Several of the footmen and maids cast curious and envious glances Ludwig’s way when he tacked his own horse, but the look of trepidation and misery on his face must have tipped them off that he was in no way enjoying the honor, for they kept their mouths shut.

Shortly after ten the guests and family came out of the house and all the staff save for a few of the visiting valets, footmen and Mrs. Peeters made their way back inside through the lower entrances. The valets helped their masters prepare for the day, and Ludwig assisted Lord Horschhorn as well. The older man offered him a smile when Ludwig chanced to glance up, and then said kindly, “Although you won’t be shooting today, I do hope you enjoy your first hunt, Schmidt. There’s nothing quite like it. All the exhilaration of war without the drama and despair.”

“I am sure it will be a wonderful time for all, my lord,” Ludwig said politely, his stomach churning at the description. He hadn’t been on a horse really since the war, and having guns fired all around him did not make him feel mentally secure.

The earl laughed. “Polite as always, Schmidt. If you wouldn’t mind helping my son, he appears to be stuck.”

Lord Horschhorn gestured towards the far end of the stables where Gilbert was struggling to fix the saddle on his horse. The young lord was dressed like most of the rest of the nobility, in jodhpurs and a smart red jacket and black hat. It was a very form fitting costume, and were Ludwig in a more relaxed state of mind he may have appreciated the outfit a bit too much. Even from a distance he could hear the young lord cursing under his breath, and that dispelled any lingering traces of deviant interest.

With a quick bow to the earl Ludwig hurried to help his charge, quickly tightening and adjusting the saddle where needed while Gilbert stood off to the side and sulked.

“I had it,” he muttered, red eyes narrowing as he watched Ludwig work. “My father worries too much. I’m an expert rider and he knows it full well.”

“You cannot fault him for a parent’s instincts, Gi—my lord,” Ludwig said gently, checking the saddle one last time before stepping back. His polite smile turned slightly mischievous and he leaned down to murmur quietly, “Need a boost? Your jodhpurs look a bit too snug to allow for freedom of movement.”

The look of indignation and horror Gilbert shot his way nearly made him laugh and destroy his carefully maintained persona.

“You – farmhand, you letch,” Gilbert muttered, his ears bright red. He glanced around the stables and then murmured softly, “But if you play your cards right we may be able to revisit this outfit at a later and more opportune moment. Should that be of interest to you.”

It was Ludwig’s turn to be slightly taken aback, not expecting his teasing to be taken literally. At a loss for words, he simply cleared his throat and stepped back, watching as Gilbert effortlessly mounted the horse and got settled in the saddle. Gilbert flashed him a satisfied grin and then rested his boot against Ludwig’s collar, the tip of the shoe just underneath Ludwig’s chin.

“Behave yourself, farmhand,” he murmured, his voice sweet and torturous. “That’s an order.”

Ludwig swallowed heavily, the pressure against his throat making it slightly difficult to breathe. It was a new game Gilbert seemed to enjoy playing. Pushing the limits of how much Ludwig would accept from him as ‘master’ and goading him into outright rebellion.

It never took very much. Ludwig had a low threshold and the embarrassing position Gilbert was forcing him into made Ludwig regret his earlier teasing. In such close quarters and surrounded by so many people he couldn’t even risk speaking, lest attention be drawn their way. All he could do was glare up at Gilbert as best he could from his lower position and let out a quiet, warning, “My lord…”

Gilbert laughed, moving his foot back into the stirrup.

“Oh farmhand, you are no fun at all,” he said dramatically, letting out a heavy sigh. “I suppose that sort of play will have to wait until we no longer have an audience.”

“You assume correctly,” Ludwig muttered, pretending to adjust the straps on the saddle so he could give Gilbert’s leg a sharp pinch. The young lord let out a little noise of surprise and nudged Ludwig’s shoulder with his knee.

“Stop that.”

“Make me.”

Ludwig pinched Gilbert again and the younger man whined quietly, all trace of the domineering lord gone.

“Ludwig…”

The sound of his name made Ludwig take pity on Gilbert. In a way. With one final check he stepped away from the horse and smiled up at Gilbert, his gaze softening.

“I wish you the best on today’s hunt, my lord,” he said quietly.

Gilbert gave him an unimpressed look before sighing again, the ghost of a smile around his lips.

“And to you as well, farmhand,” he murmured, straightening up. “Do try to stay in the saddle.”

With that, Gilbert took off, completely at ease as he expertly guided his mount out of the stables to join the rest of the party. Ludwig watched him to make sure he took his place in the formation safely before reluctantly getting back to work, brushing a few specks of dirt off of his uniform left behind by Gilbert’s boot. No one seemed to have caught the brief exchange, thankfully, and Ludwig did his best to draw no more attention to himself.

After assisting a few of the other nobles Ludwig quickly mounted his own horse and followed the hunting party to the edge of the woods. He had been instructed to stay back as much as possible and assist only when needed. Thank God. He had little interest in hunting for sport. It seemed a cruel and childish thing to him, but he wisely kept his opinions to himself.

The dogs were in a near frenzy at the front of the pack, tails wagging in the air. They let out loud barks as they slowly made their way through the woods away from the manor. Ludwig could see Gilbert towards the middle of the group, the shock of white hair making it somewhat easy to spot the young lord despite the similar hunting costumes the nobles seemed to be favoring.

They drew to a halt at the edge of a river and Ludwig hung back even more, watching the nobles as they talked amongst themselves. A few seemed bored, or even resentful to be outside, and a small part of Ludwig that still clung to the dirt roads next to the orchard flared in anger. Boredom was a privilege, and these men seemed unappreciative.

But suddenly there came a loud blast on a horn in the distance, and the dogs let out a loud bay and went charging off through the reeds and underbrush. The nobles took off after them, fanning out and weaving amongst the trees. Ludwig hurried to catch up, not wanting to fall too far behind but wary of getting shot. Unlike the nobles he was not dressed in bright colors. While he was on a horse he imagined it would be quite difficult for someone to mistake him for an animal, but accidents happened whenever guns were involved. It was inevitability.

Another horn sounded off to his right, and after a moment’s indecision Ludwig headed towards it. He was nearly alone in the woods now, his older mount unable to keep up with the rest. Distant gunshots made small birds gathered in the trees take skyward in alarm, but soon those noises faded as well. He could distantly hear the pounding of hooves, and while they drew closer he only caught flashes of red through the trees.

There came loud cries of excitement off to his left. They’d had a successful kill, obviously. Ludwig carefully steered his horse in the direction of the voices in case he was needed. His job, as far as he could tell, was simply to not get in anyone’s way, to tally any carcasses, and to send messages back to the manor should any need sending. Nondescript to say the least.

Up ahead he could see a break in the trees with a small clearing, and gathered on the far side were several of the nobles. They took off again before he could get close enough to talk with them, but a flash of silver hair among the small crowd made him smile. Gilbert looked reluctantly excited as the horse darted through the trees. Ludwig trailed the group, his eyes fixed mostly on Gilbert. The young lord looked like a prince, so confident and sure of himself in the saddle. If he were wearing something other than the ridiculous riding outfit it would have been a far easier image to conjure up.

Ludwig urged his horse on, wanting to catch up with Gilbert at least to feign polite interest in how the hunt was going. Just as he passed another small clearing there came a sharp bang, terribly close. He immediately hunched down, his instincts taking hold of him, blue eyes darting around for the source of the noise. Before he could spot the shooter a loud cry of alarm went up from in front of him. Ludwig pushed himself up just in time to see Gilbert’s horse rear and then take off at a full canter through the woods. The other nobles shouted in surprise and hung back, their own steeds snorting with slight confusion.

Ludwig immediately dug his heels into the sides of his horse, taking off after Gilbert. He could still see him up ahead through the trees, and while it was clear the young lord had some control over the panicked horse it wasn’t enough.

The horse jumped over a fallen log, but its fright stayed its legs slightly. Its back hoof caught a branch and it came crashing to the ground, hurling its rider a sickening distance.

Ludwig barely registered the terrified whinnies of the panicked, fallen horse. He cleared the fallen log and dismounted the moment the horse’s front hooves made contact with the earth. Gilbert was lying several yards away against a tree, his limbs askew and his head resting lopsided against one shoulder.

Dull horror attempted to take control, but Ludwig pushed it aside. He sprinted to the tree and knelt down next to Gilbert, taking in the unnatural splay of his limbs and the blood trickling down the side of his head. Gilbert slumped to the side, out cold, and Ludwig carefully eased him down until he was lying prone. Ludwig began checking for broken bones, catching the presence of several others who had been drawn to the scene, but he ignored them, his training completely taking over.

Miraculously, Gilbert’s legs and arms appeared to be uninjured save for several lacerations and what would no doubt be heavy bruising, but Ludwig was hesitant to move him and check for spinal injuries. He glanced at the tree, trying to remember how exactly Gilbert had been wrapped around it and whether or not any spinal damage could have possibly been done. But before he could adequately conjure up a mental picture several pairs of polished boots appeared next to him and frantic voices clogged his ears.

He tilted his head back to see who it was. Unknown faces, five of them, all in various states of panic ranging from mild concern to full blown arrest.

“How bad is the bullet wound on the horse?” one of the men asked, his thick beard twitching, and from the log came another voice, calling out, “Deep enough! What on earth was Charles thinking taking a shot like that?”

“Who can say,” Beard muttered, crouching down next to Gilbert. He spared a glance at Ludwig and then turned his attention back to the unconscious young lord. He reached out with one stubby finger and jabbed Gilbert’s side several times.

“Out cold. What a precocious brat. Can’t imagine what his lordship was thinking taking him along. Couldn’t even control a spooked horse.”

Even through the heavy fog of regimented training that had usurped Ludwig’s reactions he let out a warning noise, and when he spoke his speech was barely controlled.

“Don’t do that. My lord.”

“Ah?”

The man turned to stare at him again, gray eyes narrowing in distaste when he took in Ludwig’s clothes.

“The valet. Bold of you to speak to your betters in such a hostile voice,” he said as several others crouched around Gilbert, all examining him and speaking in quiet voices about what should be done.

Ludwig bristled at that and moved to place himself between Gilbert and this stranger, anger quickly taking over.

“Not as bold as you and your fingers, my lord,” he snapped, glaring at the rest of the men. “Give me space, I need to—”

The loud crack that suddenly rent the air took a bit to register. Ludwig stared up at the treetops, a sharp pain in his cheek making his eyes smart. The blow had knocked him backwards, and he could feel a thin trail of blood trickling down his cheek from where one of Beard’s rings had caught him. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the plump man shaking out his hand, and his surly voice rumbled through the trees.

“Cheeky bastard. His lordship is far too soft. Just pick up the kid, we’ll have someone take him back.”

Pick Gilbert up. Move him –

Oh God.

Ludwig bolted upright, blinking stars from his vision as his head reeled from the blow he’d received. His vision was distorted but he could make out one of the other lords looping his arm around Gilbert, making to lift him. Gilbert’s head snapped backwards, blood staining his hair and dripping down his pale skin, pooling on the leaves below.

With a sudden burst of movement Ludwig stood and all but shoved the man out of the way. He quickly eased Gilbert back down onto the ground and then turned on the nobles, murder in his eyes.

“Don’t you dare touch him,” he said quietly, anger and anxiety and an incredible loathing for the group of five incompetents making him see red, hijacking his tongue. “Stay the hell away from him. He’s min—my charge.”

God what had he been about to say? His? His what, exactly?

The four men stared at him as though they’d been struck, their expressions pale with surprise and slight disgust. The bearded man’s face was slightly ruddy and he opened his mouth to speak, but just as he did so there came a quiet whimper from the ground, and Gilbert stirred very slightly.

Immediately the men and their suspicious hush were forgotten. Ludwig turned his attention back to Gilbert, a thin band of true panic slowly squeezing his chest like a vice. Gilbert’s lips were paler than normal and his breathing was ragged. The young lord whimpered again, lashes brushing against his skin as eyes slowly opened.

Ludwig quickly took Gilbert’s hand in his own, squeezing gently.

“Gilbert?’ he said softly, relieved that Gilbert was moving at all. “Gilbert, can you feel this?” He squeezed the younger man’s hand again, bringing it to his lips.

Dull red eyes slid to the side and Gilbert blinked slowly.

“Lud… wig,” he mumbled, his eyes slipping shut again. “What are you… thinking, holding my hand in front of these strangers…”

His hand went limp in Ludwig’s grasp and his head lolled to the side once more. Were in not for the steady rise and fall of his chest Ludwig would have thought him dead he was so pale and still.

Ludwig threaded his fingers through Gilbert’s, squeezing his hand again in desperate hope for some sort of response. When none came, he reached out to brush a lock of matted, reddened hair out of the young lord’s eyes, murmuring softly to him promises of comfort, willing for his voice to somehow reach beyond the veil of unconsciousness.

The rest of the world slowly came back to him, and he was dimly aware of someone shouting at him, a stream of curses he had little interest in.

“…-report this to his lordship. Clearly this valet is unfit for service if this is how he treats his betters. And if this were my son I would never let this deviant of a man towards him. The earl has lost his mind hiring him. I wouldn’t be surprised to find he’s been arrested for public indecency or even sodomy.”

Ludwig glanced over his shoulder at the five men, and the look on his face must been one of pure homicidal intent, for all five took a little step backwards, several of the weaker willed looking ready to faint.

“Please go fetch the earl,” Ludwig said as calmly as he possibly could, “And have him ring up Doctor Jones, if he would be so kind. Lord Gilbert may have suffered a spinal injury and I am hesitant to move him.”

The portly Beard’s face contorted into a revolting mess of anger, but before he could speak again one of the other lords rested a hand on his shoulder and quietly addressed Ludwig. “That would be best. We will return shortly. You’ll stay with him?”

“Yes, my lord. Thank you,” said Ludwig, turning back to Gilbert, message delivered. He wanted nothing more to do with any of them. After an agonizing minute of more useless bickering the men finally left. Ludwig’s horse wandered over eventually, nuzzling his hair and snuffing curiously. Ludwig gently pushed the beast away, unconcerned that it might run off. He rubbed his thumb against the back of Gilbert’s hand, dabbing at the cut on his head with his handkerchief. It didn’t seem to be that deep, thankfully. The bleeding was already subsiding. Unusual for a head wound. Ludwig checked Gilbert’s pupils and they dilated. Slower than they should have but it was a good sign.

Some of the tension that had kept his worry at bay was lessened then, and Ludwig hunched over, pressing Gilbert’s hand to his forehead as he silently cried. It had happened so quickly. Gilbert had been tossed like a rag doll and the blood on the forest floor was not helping to keep certain memories where they belonged. All from a stupid horse. No, all from a stupid noble who had let loose his fire too early.

Ludwig clenched his teeth, his grip around Gilbert’s hand tightening. If ever he found out who had made that shot he had little faith in his own ability to hold back. He had maimed better men in the past. What was one more.

He remained like that for quite some time, the sun passing slightly overhead. The beating of hooves suddenly drew close, and soon after a strong arm on his shoulder gently pulled him away.

“You’ve done enough, Schmidt,” the earl said quietly, his voice worn and sad. “Thank you for watching over him.”

Ludwig wanted to protest the movement but before he could the town doctor was kneeling next to Gilbert and he was lightly pushed aside. Ludwig turned to the earl, unashamed of the few spots that still stained his cheeks.

“He suffered a head injury, but I don’t think it’s too severe. My lord,” he said quietly, exhaustion hitting him all at once. “And he may have a spinal injury although he was able to register touch to his hand before he lost consciousness again…”

The earl nodded, the smile on his face not quite reaching his eyes. His skin was a sallow pallor and his jaw was clenched. After a moment he brushed past Ludwig, kneeling down next to Gilbert and taking his son’s hand. Ludwig watched the doctor and the lord, feeling suddenly very disconnected. The earl’s eyes were far too bright and his shoulders were shaking slightly. It was strange to see his back. Hunched and trembling.

The doctor stood, addressing the earl in a voice too soft for Ludwig to hear, but the relief on the lord’s face was enough for him. Several other men pushed by him, helping the earl lift Gilbert into a small carriage that had been brought. There were so many men surrounding him all Ludwig could see of Gilbert was one thin arm draped over his father’s shoulders.

Then they were gone.

Ludwig remained standing in the small clearing for a very long time, the blood on his fingers drying and making them feel as though his skin was too tight. Finally he forced himself to move, his limbs sluggish. He had to find his horse. Gilbert’s was gone.

It took him the better part of an hour to track down his horse. The dim-witted thing was grazing in a small field and didn’t even seem to notice him when he mounted the saddle again. Ludwig steered the horse back in the general direction of the manor, having to guess where that might be. He’d gotten turned around during the chase and had been too shocked to take note of the direction the earl’s party had headed towards.

Sitting atop the horse made it too easy to over think. His mind stubbornly replayed the moment of Gilbert’s fall over and over again, each time pointing out a new way in which he’d failed the young lord. He should have moved faster. Grabbed the horse. Done some sort of daring rescue like he’d always fanaticized about when he’d been younger and even stupider than he was now. Gilbert’s blood. How pale his face was. The ruddy lord with the beard and the rings.

That image brought nothing but pure anger, and Ludwig clung to it to keep from falling back into self-deprecation and despair. Gilbert was alive. He was well enough that the doctor cleared him for transport. In a few days they would be laughing about it, but Ludwig would never forget the portly man who had struck him. There was little doubt in his mind that the man would be concocting some sort of story to feed to the earl while he was gone. Whispering in his ear about how abnormally long Ludwig had held Gilbert’s hand or how enraged he’d gotten. The way he’d talked back to his betters over a simple injury.

The beginnings of a dark paranoia slowly wrapped their fingers around Ludwig’s heart, feeding every small anxious thought that crossed his mind. By the time he caught sight of the pathway that led back to the manor he was barely keeping himself composed.

The earl was going to find out.

The thought struck Ludwig like a bolt.

Lord Horschhorn already knew of the rumors circling the staff quarters. The pudgy lord’s testimony would only fuel his suspicions. He’d know. God he’d know and Ludwig may as well have been heading back to his own execution. No matter how kind the earl was injury tended to breed overreactions and incite fear and alarm, especially when words like sodomy were thrown around in conjunction with one’s beloved offspring.

The horse let out a confused whinny as Ludwig pulled it to a stop just outside the gate. The beast stamped its hoof, obviously wanting to head back to the stables it knew. Ludwig stared out over the beginnings of the garden, listening to the sounds of the returning nobles he could hear just past the sloping hills.

His hands tightened on the reigns. Dried blood on his skin cracked.

He should go. Even if he were to return it was unlikely he’d be able to see Gilbert any time soon. Not even to say a goodbye.

The small, rational part of him that was left knew he was being melodramatic. Even if the bearded lord told everything to the earl, including the vicious insults, there was no guarantee the earl would hear any of it. Ludwig could not even recall the portly man’s name, which meant that he was not one of the earl’s closer guests.

But still he could not shake his paranoia.

Ludwig sat quiet for a very long time, his hands shaking as he tried to calmly debate his options, the fat man’s voice ringing in his ears. Whispering in the earl’s.

With a quick jerk of the reigns Ludwig turned the horse around and headed back into the woods. The manor gate disappeared behind him, swallowed up by the trees.

(~)

The manor house was in a state of utter chaos. The carriage had brought Gilbert back and news had immediately spread of the accident. Gilbert was carried up to his room where the doctor did a full examination. The entire family gathered in the sitting room, waiting anxiously for news, and when the doctor finally made his report looks of relief crossed all of their faces. Preliminary tests showed no spinal injuries, no concussion. Gilbert had been very lucky.

The moment the all clear was given the three cousins bolted up to Gilbert’s room. They stood solemnly by his bedside, tears sliding down Eliza and Roderich’s cheeks. Vash remained stoic, but he rested a hand on Roderich’s shoulder, grunting quietly when the other boy only cried harder and leaned on him a bit more.

Lord and Lady Horschhorn joined them after seeing the doctor off, and the family spent the evening by Gilbert’s bedside, waiting for him to wake up.

Dinner was served to the nobility downstairs and apologies were offered by Mrs. Peeters. She brought the family a small tea, but when she returned to clear the plates a few hours later none of it had been touched.

It was not until around nine at night that Eliza finally spoke.

“Where’s Ludwig?”

The earl’s expression hardened and he tightened his hand on his wife’s shoulder.

“I would not worry about him, Eliza,” the lord said, his voice surprisingly sharp. “When he returns I will speak with him.”

Eliza looked startled but she nodded and turned back to Gilbert, fiddling with her cousin’s sleeve.

The night dragged on, and soon all three of the children were asleep. Mrs. Peeters brought blankets for the family, and Lord and Lady Horschhorn finally accepted some of the food she had brought as well.

Around midnight there came a small knock on the door, and Alex’s voice sounded out.

“My lord, one of the nobles wishes to discuss an earlier conversation he had with you. With your permission—”

Lord Horschhorn stood in a flurry of movement and moved to the door. He yanked it open and stared down at the footman, his lips pressed in a thin line.

“Which noble, Popescu?”

Alex took a step back, obviously startled, and then said warily, “Lord Clarke, my lord. He said –”

“Tell him I am keeping vigil over my son. If he still wishes to reopen that discussion it can be saved for the morrow,” the earl said sharply. “Good night, Popescu.”

“Good night, my lo—”

The earl shut the door and returned to Gilbert’s bedside. His wife gave him a weary look and rested her hand atop his.

“You never were adept at treating your guests with decorum,” she said softly.

The earl closed his eyes, his mouth twitching.

“It is an unpleasant business Clarke wishes to address. Hearing it once was enough for me.”

Lady Horschhorn’s brow furrowed, but she said no more.

Only a few minutes later another knock sounded on the door, and the earl immediately stood, his shoulders shaking with anger.

“Popescu, I wish to be left alone is that so difficult a concept for you to grasp?” he snapped, sounding all too like his son in that moment. He pulled open the door again but took a little step back as Mrs. Peeters’ slightly amused face greeted him.

“And how are we faring, my lord?” she asked gently.

Lord Horschhorn had the decency to look embarrassed and he cleared his throat.

“Not well, Mrs. Peeters. Not well at all,” he said quietly. He glanced behind him into the room and then leaned down to ask softly, “Have you heard word from Schmidt? I have rather important business with him and I cannot say I am pleased that he is shirking his duties.”

“Mr. Schmidt is down in the kitchens assisting with the clean-up,” Mrs. Peeters said with a puzzled smile. “He returned only half an hour ago. Apparently he went and retrieved Lord Gilbert’s horse. He found the poor thing out in the middle of the woods bleeding terribly. I was shocked the other men did not think to retrieve it. The horse is Lord Gilbert’s favorite, after all.” Her smile softened. “Mr. Schmidt does have a soft spot for the young lord. I was surprised when he declined my asking him to accompany me here.”

“It is that very soft spot that I wish to discuss with him,” the earl said with a small grimace. He fell silent and then waved Mrs. Peeters away.

“Send for him, please. And let him know it is a personal request from me.”

Mrs. Peeters slightly inclined her head and said politely, “Very good, my lord.” She turned on her heel and headed away, and the earl shut the door once more and rejoined his wife, taking her hand in his.

A few minutes later, still mud-splattered and with flecks of blood on his cheek, Ludwig knocked on the door. When Peeters had fetched him he knew it was the end. He had spotted the five lords who had been with him at the site of Gilbert’s fall, and all of them, especially the portly Beard, had looked far too happy. He had sequestered himself in the kitchen, the part of him that longed to flee dictating that he remain as out of sight as possible. He should have known that would be far easier said than done. He smelled rank after hours of tracking down Gilbert’s horse, his cheek still stung from the cut, and his suit was most likely ruined beyond salvation.

Oddly enough, Peeters didn’t even seem to notice.

Ludwig heard movement on the other side of the door and he squared his shoulders, bracing himself. When the earl answered, the look of anger on the man’s face nearly made Ludwig turn tail.

Neither spoke for a few horribly long seconds, but finally the earl broke the silence.

“Your manners are slipping, Schmidt. I never thought I would see the day.”

Ludwig’s brow furrowed slightly in confusion, but he cleared his throat and said softly, “I… I was not anticipating a conversation where manners would be necessary, my lord.” He could not help himself any longer and risked a glance behind the earl. Gilbert was stretched out in bed, his three cousins all curled around him and his mother keeping watch over him.

The vice around his heart relaxed slightly, and a very small smile of relief crossed his face despite it all.

“Is Lord Gilbert…”

“We will not know until he wakes up, but for the time being it seems he escaped without heavy injury,” the earl said, stepping out into the hallway and closing the door behind him. He gestured for Ludwig to follow, and Ludwig did so, keeping at a fair distance, still unsure he had a firm grasp on the reality of the situation.

The earl turned into a small sitting room and shut the door behind him before facing Ludwig once more. His angry expression had tempered somewhat, but Ludwig still felt a dull sense of foreboding. He dully wished he had followed through with his initial resolve. He had been halfway out of the words when he had caught sight of a broken trail and on a whim, followed it. It had led him to Gilbert’s horse, and the sight of the pathetic thing limping around the field had broken through the stubborn mindset he’d thrown together in self-indulgent haste.

He’d coaxed the thing back home, plagued by flashes of Gilbert waking up to an empty bed, the realization that he was gone, and the hurt and anger he couldn’t help but selfishly hope the boy would have felt. The loss that he knew would have haunted him.

They were both too far gone already. What point was there in fleeing. There would be no solace anywhere for him. Possibly not for Gilbert either, although he was still so young. They recovered faster and forgot easier over the longer years they held.

A gentle touch to his chin startled Ludwig out of his mental wanderings, and he held still as the earl inspected him.

“You have a near perfect imprint of Lord Clarke’s ring on your cheek,” the older man said absently, and Ludwig could only nod.

“It was a blow I feel in retrospect I deserved, my lord,” he quietly lied. He would never forgive the man. A generous description. The insults meant more and were less easily forgotten, but the blow ultimately held less pain, and so he chose to focus on that.

“Do you?” Lord Horschhorn said mildly, crossing his arms over his chest. “I took you for a prouder man than that, Schmidt.”

Ludwig blinked slowly, his paranoia finally muffled by confusion.

“…My lord?”

The earl sat down and gestured for Ludwig to do the same.

“Lord Clarke told me a very vivid story, wrought with insurrectionists and insubordination,” Lord Horschhorn said, folding his hands in his lap. He met Ludwig’s gaze, his icy eyes narrowing.

“I need you to tell me the truth, Schmidt. Did you push my honored guests away and curse at them?”

Ludwig felt his face grow pale, but still he nodded, meeting the earl’s gaze.

“I did, my lord,” he said quietly. “And I cannot sit here and lie and say I am sorry for something I am not. The blow was deserved, perhaps, from some perspectives, but I did what I believed was right. I protected my charge.”

“Yes, Lord Clarke was rather adamant about that as well, although some of his word choices made my stomach turn.” The earl gave a dignified snort and poured himself a drink from the decanter on the table. “Apparently when one’s mind is inclined towards aberrational behavior a simple touch can be interpreted as a caress. You have a fondness for my son that even a blind man would be able to see, and although Gilbert enjoys guarding his emotions and feelings from us his own affections for you are just a blatant. That an outsider should misinterpret that fraternal affection is unsurprising, given the age we find ourselves in.”

Ludwig felt his blood run cold. The other lord had been correct, of course, but the earl seemed inclined to mark him the liar and Ludwig the saint. To see their fondness as companionship, still a transgression but a far more forgivable one.

The runaway forest lost a bit of its appeal as Ludwig felt the noose around his neck loosen.

Lord Horschhorn held out his hand for Ludwig to take, and said quietly, “I cannot condone your words towards my guests, but I can thank you for taking care of my son. Were his injuries as severe as we feared they were you may have very well saved his life.”

Ludwig slowly took the earl’s hand, unsure of how to feel or what he was to say.

“So I’m not… fired?” he found himself asking, his voice weak with surprise.

The earl burst out laughing and released his hand, settling back against the couch.

“Fired? Goodness, no. I had half a mind to deck Clarke myself for suggesting the things he did and for laying a hand on one of my servants. Even if said servant was being a bit of a cheek.”

Ludwig flushed at that, but his whole body was trembling from relief. The earl trusted him. Foolishly, it was true, but he trusted him enough to put his word above a lord’s. Above nobility.

Ludwig’s eyes stung and he quickly looked away, trying to compose himself as quickly as he could.

“I-… t-thank you, my lord,” he said tiredly, exhaustion stripping him of the last of his defenses. “I thought… I thought I might never be allowed to see him again. To—to serve him again, I mean. My apologies, I am… I am fatigued.”

“It’s quite alright,” the earl said, his voice gentle once more. “And you are free to see him now, if you wish. And serve him as long as you can stomach it.” He laughed again and stood, gesturing towards the door. “I will go have another word with Clarke. He has a reputation for being boorish and rude and it gives me no small amount of vindictive pleasure to see that I finally have the proof I need to expose him.”

“As long as I do not have to testify, my lord,” Ludwig said weakly, and the earl smiled and clapped him on the shoulder.

“I will do my best to ensure your identity remains secret,” Lord Horschhorn said, gently ushering Ludwig out of the room. “Go check on Gilbert. I know that is the only real reason you responded to my summons.”

Ludwig’s face grew hot, but he could not argue in the face of such an obvious truth. With a little bow he hurried away back to Gilbert’s room. When he arrived he found Lady Horschhorn pacing in front of the fireplace, worrying at her lip. When she spotted him she immediately rushed over and pulled him into an awkward embrace, having to push herself on her tiptoes to do so.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, her voice slightly muffled. “Lord Horschhorn told me you protected Gilbert from those imbeciles…”

“He- he didn’t actually suffer a spinal injury, my lady, so what I did in truth was merely yell at several men much above my station,” Ludwig mumbled, highly uncomfortable. His clothes and skin were still stained with dirt and blood and he was well aware of how badly he smelled. The lady did not seem to mind, and when she pulled away she smiled and reached up to gently pat his cheek.

“You are a good man, Mr. Schmidt. I am so pleased you are still with us,” she said quietly. She released him after that and went over to the bed, gently shaking awake the three children. Roderich was still clinging to Vash when the four made their way towards the door. Eliza took a detour to give Ludwig a little hug and to tug him down to whisper softly in his ear, “Thank you for being Gilbert’s knight, Ludwig.”

Ludwig felt his cheeks grow flushed at the darling words, but he could only return the hug before letting the young girl go join her family. The door closed behind them, and Ludwig suddenly found himself alone in the room.

From downstairs drifted up the sound of the men celebrating the rest of the hunt still, although the hour was incredibly late. After a brief debate with himself Ludwig forwent the shower and elected to simply strip off his dirty coat, letting it rest on the windowsill to be cleaned the next day. He sat down next to the bed, in the chair Lady Horschhorn had been using, and studied Gilbert’s face. There was a stark white bandage wrapped around his head, and his collar and cheek were badly bruised. That was all Ludwig could see above the covers that had been pulled nearly up to his chin.

Ludwig leaned forward and propped his arms up on the bed, watching over Gilbert. He timidly let his hand move to rest against the young lord’s chest, taking comfort in the steady heartbeat and rise and fall of his chest. He watched him sleep for a very long time, replaying the day’s events in a much calmer manner than he had when he had been by himself in the woods. Without fear to distort them, it was painfully obvious what an idiot he had been.

Ludwig blinked to clear the stinging from his eyes, weariness overtaking him at last.

“I’m such a coward,” he whispered, his voice thick with unshed tears. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against the bed linens and squeezing his eyes shut. “Forgive me, Gilbert…”

He felt a slight stirring underneath the bedclothes, but before he could even sit up a gentle hand rested against his hair and Gilbert’s scratchy voice murmured softly, “If you are asking for forgiveness for suffocating me with your giant hand you will be hard pressed to find it here.”

Ludwig remained still, his heart in his throat as Gilbert’s fingers absently carded thought his hair. He was awake. God in heaven he was all right…

Ludwig bit back a sob of relief, and without thinking he pushed himself up and settled over Gilbert, hugging the smaller man against his chest and pressing his face against the crook of his neck. He dimly heard Gilbert hiss in surprise and perhaps even slight pain, and he mumbled a quiet apology that only bought him a slight smack to the back of the head. He reluctantly loosened his grip, lowering Gilbert back down onto the bed, but remained hovering over him, blue eyes raking over the young lord’s slightly confused and pained expression.

Gilbert licked his lips and cleared his throat, resting his hand against Ludwig’s injured cheek.

“The last thing I remember is a group of very posh gentlemen looking at me with alarm and a splitting headache,” he said mildly, his voice still scratchy and slow with fatigue. “Where did we end on that, exactly?”

Ludwig shook his head, grabbing Gilbert’s hand to press a desperate kiss to his palm.

“You were thrown,” he said quietly. “I thought… God, I thought the worst… Can you move your legs?”

“Don’t be daft, of course I can,” Gilbert muttered, moving his knee to lightly hit Ludwig’s back before he settled down again. “I don’t remember much but a fall like that won’t put me out of commission.”

A small frown tugged at his lips then, and he glanced warily up at Ludwig.

“…You were crying,” he said softly, his hand pressing a bit more insistently against Ludwig’s cheek. “And you’re bleeding… or you were if this disgusting mess on your face has anything to say about it.”

Ludwig shook his head again and gently tugged Gilbert’s hand away, holding it close against his chest instead.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, leaning forward to brush his lips against Gilbert’s, relief washing over him once more. “None of it matters… You’re safe.”

Gilbert squirmed underneath him but returned the gentle kiss with a questioning air about him.

“Ludwig, why—what is it?” he asked nervously, red eyes darting back and forth between Ludwig’s. “Something is different about you. You’re shaking…”

Ludwig felt Gilbert’s fingers tremble against his skin, and too late he realized what exactly he was going to say. He’d nearly run. Cowardice and paranoia had made him almost leave this, the beautiful solace he’d finally found after half a lifetime of loneliness and deceit.

Ludwig studied the face of the one so dear to him, drinking in the sight of genuine concern in the scarlet eyes. He thought of the trees and the blood on the ground, the dull pounding of hooves and all it had taken was a quiet memory to draw him back like a siren’s call. Gilbert held all of him in his roughened, ink stained hands. How easily he could have been crushed if they had fallen truly still.

There had been a moment, when Gilbert’s chest had refused to rise, that had caught another, more distant memory. A broken body and one of the men with grass stained knees that had held it close, and closer still the muzzle of a gun. The relief found in a simple pulling of a trigger had haunted Ludwig, unable to comprehend the emotion behind such an extreme. Unable to comprehend the despair in true loss.

Had Gilbert’s chest not finally risen again, he would have sought his own trigger.

The thought had taken hold of him, and even now with Gilbert safe and warm underneath him it haunted him. That the vessel that housed him was so fragile and precious, and his heart beat held a guillotine blade over his neck. Ready to drop should it ever still.

“…Ludwig?”

The soft voice brought him back, and Ludwig tilted his head into Gilbert’s gentle touch. The young lord’s expression was one of mild confusion and disquiet, and in that moment Ludwig felt the blade slip.

He let out a quiet breath and leaned down, words whisper soft as he finally let them go. The woods and the sound still hunted him with every breath. With every beat of the racing heart underneath his fingertips, the press of lips so warm and loving against his own.

Three soft, little words, and the world went still.

Save for the quiet snap of a trigger wrenched into place.


	18. Affr(a)y

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the melodramatic adventures of The Valet™ continue. 
> 
> it took a bit to ease back into writing, even after a break of only a week and a half. there’s some consistency errors between this chapter and a previous one but nothing too glaring, i hope. since school is starting up again updates will be farther apart, but i do plan on finishing this story! i have the rest roughly planned out so now it’s just a matter of getting it written. as always, thanks for reading!

The morning after Gilbert’s accident the entire household had been in a complete uproar, mostly in celebration that Gilbert had not actually fallen into a coma like the rumors had suggested or been trampled by his horse like several of the cruder staff had whispered to anyone who would listen. When Gilbert heard the rumors he had found them quite amusing and even tried to encourage Ludwig to help him stage some sort of vicious accident that started with him falling out a window and ended with him pricked to death by rose bushes, but Ludwig would have no part of it. 

Gilbert had been moved back to his proper room as soon as possible. No one could stand the complaining when he had been in the recovery room, least of all Ludwig, who, despite the torrent of emotions that had assaulted him the day before, was already starting to feel drained. A contained and essentially trapped Gilbert was a bored one, and a bored Gilbert was any sane valet’s worst nightmare. Ludwig was already developing plans for entertainment and contingency plans for when those inevitably failed, but he was quite surprised when one morning he found Mrs. Peeters guarding Gilbert’s door. He was told in no uncertain terms that Gilbert did not require his presence that day and that he should make himself useful elsewhere. Ludwig had done his best to hide his hurt feelings, but Peeters had patted his cheek all the same and told him not to look so downtrodden. The woman had an uncanny sixth sense. It made Ludwig exceedingly nervous.

 

With nothing to do but wonder why his charge was refusing his presence, Ludwig wandered down to the kitchens and made himself breakfast from the family’s leftovers. He sat alone at a table in the corner as he ate, making sure to keep an unwelcoming expression plastered on his face at all times. Several staff members veered closer to him, ready to swoop and ask any number of uncomfortable questions, but the look made them smoothly change direction and head away as though that had been their plan all along. At least they all were developing a healthy sense of self-preservation.

 

It wasn’t until two days later that Ludwig was finally called for. He’d been going mad with both worry and boredom. He had even resigned himself to helping Peeters take care of Gilbert’s cousins he was so desperate for relief from the monotony. Roderich’s utter terror towards him was growing worse by the day, and when Gilbert’s bell finally rang Ludwig was all too happy to leave the children to their studies and head downstairs. He entered Gilbert’s room without knocking, and was surprised to find it unoccupied.

 

Ludwig remained still, trying to discern where exactly he was supposed to go, when a slight clearing of the throat from behind him made him turn. Gilbert was standing in the doorway, his hands crossed over his chest and a smug look on his face.

 

“My, my. Not two minutes have passed since I rang that damn bell. You must have sprinted.”

 

Ludwig had the decency to look mildly embarrassed, but the relieved smile on his face could not be hidden.

 

“As if you would expect anything else from me,” he said quietly. “It is good to see you on your feet, my lord.”

 

Gilbert gave a delicate roll of his eyes and strode into the room, closing the door behind him. He was dressed rather sloppily, but Ludwig assumed his parents would forgive his rough appearance considering the ordeal of the past couple of days.

 

“It is both terrible and wonderful,” Gilbert said dryly, sitting by the fire. “Wonderful in that I no longer need to sequester myself from you due to embarrassment and a mild concussion that made me spout nonsense. Terrible in that no one else in this damned household seems content to wait on me any longer now that I am up and about. I am still just as injured and in pain. Simply mobile. It boggles the mind, this change in attitude.”

 

A small pang of anxiety returned to Ludwig as Gilbert spoke, one he had been trying to suppress ever since he had let those three words slip. A quick glance at the door reassured him that it was shut. He moved to Gilbert’s side, taking the chair next to him.

 

“If I must be honest, I was wondering about your sudden seclusion,” he said quietly, hiding his vulnerability behind a polite cadence. “Perhaps it is merely my paranoia but I cannot help but notice the timely nature of your isolation following that… that confession.”

 

The slight tensing of Gilbert’s fingers around the book in his hands did little to placate Ludwig’s fearful mind, and when Gilbert spoke it was with an affected tone of indifference.

 

“It did catch me off guard, yes,” he said with a shrug of his narrow shoulders. “I am used to hearing that word bandied about in literature. But it is a very different beast altogether when it is spoken in real life from someone who is not a blood relative or a con in need of a desperate, last ditch ploy.”

 

Red eyes studied Ludwig’s drawn face for a moment before Gilbert looked away again, mumbling, “A different beast still when coming from a man who I did not think possessed the necessary depth of affection. Clearly a fatal misjudgment on my part.”

 

“Clearly,” Ludwig said, his temper flaring slightly before he tempered it. He folded his hands in his lap, wrestling with his words for a long time.

 

“I did not say it lightly,” he muttered, his blue eyes fixed on the fireplace. “Nor did I say it in a moment of thoughtless passion, if that’s what has you worried.”

 

“Passion is one word for it. Relief would be another, I think,” Gilbert supplied, his fingertip tracing a flower pattern in the rug. “But yes, I am assuming that is what spurred your tongue. Relief and guilt over your initial flight. Those two emotions can spur men to do any number of foolish things they later regret.”

 

Ludwig flinched at the sharp words, but he could not outright deny that both had played a role. He ran his fingers through his hair, breaking up the wax that held the strands in place.

 

“You know I wasn’t fleeing you,” he finally said, not knowing or too afraid to be more direct.

 

Gilbert gave another dismissive shrug that was blatantly artificial.

 

“Of course I know that. I’m not an idiot,” he muttered. “You were running from the situation. The mere fact that I happened to be an integral part of said situation is happenstance and little more.”

 

“Stop with the snide remarks and just tell me how you are feeling,” Ludwig said wearily. He never had been one for word games and Gilbert tended to try his patience on that front more than most. “As I have said far too many times before, Gilbert, I am not a mind reader, nor do I have any plans of becoming one.” He quirked an eyebrow at Gilbert. “Largely in part because I dread to think what I might find buried in the recesses of your brain.”

 

Gilbert let out a slight bark of laughter that he quickly stifled.

 

“…I am grateful for what you did. Chief of all there is that,” he said, his voice a careful, even keel. “Mother told me about how you stopped those idiots from moving me and how you saved my horse. But it is because I feel such gratitude that these other things have become somewhat… warped. Adding to that the distinct confusion of amorous declaration and a rather persistent headache and you have all you need to drive a man to seek solace.”

 

Ludwig could not help the sadness that took hold of him then, and he fell very still and very quiet.

 

“Do you really have so much to fear from those three words?” he finally asked, bitterness clouding his judgment slightly. “I know I am not a duke or a son of a Spanish lord or even heaven forbid a woman but I felt it so keenly in that moment and even though it is causing me nothing but misery now I feel it still.”

 

He lifted his head and caught Gilbert’s eyes, the younger man looking like a deer staring down the barrel of a gun.

 

“I lov—”

 

Gilbert sprang up in a flash, pressing his hand against Ludwig’s mouth with a panicked cry of “Don’t!”

 

Ludwig could feel his fingers trembling against his skin and he fought back his disappointment. Perhaps Gilbert was just words, after all. Words that meant nothing and physical affection that meant even less. Mimicking his heroes in the literature he consumed, but when the book was closed finding them unpalatable and rancid on the tongue.

 

It was painful to care for someone whose entire existence seemed to be contained to ink on a page, never translating to reality.

 

Ludwig gently pushed aside Gilbert’s hand, fighting back the anger born of disenchantment and hurt.

 

“Answer enough,” he muttered, rising to his feet.

 

Gilbert stood as well, his pointed nose wrinkling in an incredibly unattractive fashion. A nervous weasel.

 

“Any man who isn’t frightened by those words is lying to himself,” he said fiercely, his face growing pale. “And for us – you… voicing it. Can’t you see how inane it sounds? The concept alone is –”

 

“I don’t want to talk about it in concepts!” Ludwig snapped, his temper getting the better of him momentarily. “I don’t give a damn about the concept of it or the sheer idiocy of pretending that what I feel is a valid form of emotion because to me it is. I have not once in my entire life cared for another human being beyond using them as a shield to ensure my own survival and the moment I dare to speak the words outside of a dire situation I have them thrown back in my face or stifled completely. How do you expect me to take it, Gilbert? Please, I am all ears for advice as to how I should properly react. You’re a creature of lordly decorum, after all. Enlighten me.”

 

Gilbert’s face grew paler still, his lips turned down with anger or misery, Ludwig couldn’t be sure which. With a heavy sigh the young lord sank down into an armchair, pressing a hand over his face.

 

“I’m… sorry.”

 

Ludwig fought not to roll his eyes.

 

“Wonderful. I give a speech and get a sorry,” he muttered, wanting quite badly to leave but finding his feet encased in concrete.

 

“I know how it sounds,” Gilbert said tiredly. “But it’s… I’ve found myself treating this little exercise as a kind of game. Something to test the waters and see if I really am what I fear. And hearing those words upended the whole board and sent the pieces flying and it forced me to face the reality of my own aberrancy. It was a little much after nearly dying.”

 

“You didn’t nearly die, don’t be dramatic,” Ludwig said, ignoring the fact that he himself had thought Gilbert dead momentarily. “You’re recovered already, from the looks of you, and I thank God for it.”

 

He sat down in the armchair across from Gilbert and studied him, forcing himself to be logical like he used to pride himself in being.

 

“So this has all been an experiment?” he asked. “Was nothing you said or did genuine?”

 

“No!” Gilbert said immediately, pushing himself up and fixing Ludwig with a desperate look. “No that’s not what I meant at all and you twisting my words to—”

 

“What am I supposed to think when you tell me that this… that me risking so much and you as well that it’s all just been a game to you?” Ludwig asked quietly, catching Gilbert’s eyes.

 

“Not that,” Gilbert said, his long fingers twisting at the rumbled tie around his neck. “You’re so passionate it rules your head sometimes. I remember you telling me that you were devoid of such things and I’ve only found the opposite to be true.”

 

He let out a quiet sigh and closed his eyes. The room fell silent before Gilbert finally spoke again.

 

“It frightened me,” he said, his voice weak. “And I have never been frightened before. Everything was too real and you were too ardent and I was terrified of what that sincerity meant for me. This entire time I have believed stupidly that this could all be contained and no one would ever bother us with it because it was simple. Such a simple thing and so innocent but I can’t pretend anymore.”

 

Ludwig stared across the room at Gilbert, his heart lead in his chest.

 

“So you don’t… feel the same,” he said softly.

 

Gilbert’s eyes opened and he caught Ludwig’s gaze before shaking his head.

 

“Is it supposed to make me feel afraid?” he asked listlessly. “I’m seventeen, Ludwig. What do I know about any of this? Up until now all it has been is fun and suddenly I’m petrified and I feel so stupidly young and naïve.”

 

Something in the young lord’s voice finally pierced the leaden wall around Ludwig’s heart. He wordlessly stood and moved across the room to sit on the floor in front of Gilbert, resting his head in the younger man’s lap. His eyes fell shut as pale fingers carded through his hair, and Gilbert let out a grateful sigh.

 

“You talk as though I’m not scared out of my wits myself,” he said quietly, and Gilbert’s fingers momentarily stilled. “It might have only been for a moment but I thought I had lost you, and to realize the level of control another person has over your psyche…”

 

He fell silent and then turned his head to brush his lips against Gilbert’s thigh.

 

“I’m sorry for frightening you,” he said softly. “But I can’t take those words back. It would be a lie.”

 

Gilbert’s fingers moved again, gently combing back Ludwig’s hair.

 

“Then I suppose I will have to learn to love them back, or at least to tolerate them. Those stupid words,” he said quietly, and Ludwig could hear the tired smile in his voice. “I have no intention of ending this. I despise weak men who succumb to fear. I won’t allow myself to become one of them.”

 

Ludwig nodded but said nothing in response. It was horrible to have spoken so truthfully and to have Gilbert run from him, but the distance was still manageable and in time perhaps he would be able to cope with the new gash in his ego.

 

He suddenly pushed himself up, resting his hands on Gilbert’s knees as he smiled up at him.

 

“But I am glad to see you looking well,” he said genially, and Gilbert laughed and gave him a grateful smile in return.

 

“Stronger than ever, since it did not kill me as it turns out,” Gilbert quipped, leaning forward to kiss Ludwig’s forehead. “And now that that miserable conversation is over with I will no longer be avoiding you like a new strain of plague.”

 

“Lovely analogy.”

 

“I try.”

 

Gilbert’s smile widened.

 

“This morning I talked to my father about London, and he says that in a week, if I’m still feeling well enough, we can go. Roderich, Vash, and Eliza too.”

 

Ludwig’s expression changed from slight excitement to resignation in a few seconds.

 

“Ah, right. We were going to bring them along,” he muttered. Gilbert laughed and rested a hand against Ludwig’s cheek, leaning down to kiss him again, his lips pressing a bit longer against his skin.

 

“You needn’t sound quite so disappointed,” he teased. “We will still have our own private quarters, and if we tire of the children then we can leave them with one of my kinder relations and go off to be on our own.”

 

“I still find it amusing that you have the audacity to call Eliza a child. How many times now has she beaten you bloody for it?”

 

“Once was too many,” Gilbert said gravely. “She’s hardly a lady, is she. I cannot believe my father expects her to co-inherit his estate. The entire place will become a veritable Sparta if she gets her way.”

 

“Lucky then that her cousin is such a sophisticate. You will keep the manor from becoming too drab, I’m sure.”

 

“One can only scream at a hurricane for so long before succumbing,” Gilbert muttered, but there was a genuinely troubled look on his face. Ludwig made a quiet noise and reached up to gently flick Gilbert’s forehead.

 

“None of that,” he said quietly, rubbing the little red mark he’d left when Gilbert sulked. “If I’m not allowed to talk about depressing things then neither are you. Let’s think of London and nothing else for the time being. If need be we can revisit the topic but I would be content to let it die.”

 

The look Gilbert gave him was a sad one, and his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

 

“Liar,” he said quietly, resting a hand against Ludwig’s cheek. “You’re lucky I’m so forgiving.”

 

Ludwig shook his head and kissed Gilbert in apology and would speak no more of it for the rest of the day, even when Gilbert attempted to trap him into more serious conversations. It was a sad thing to realize that your life closely resembled a Jane Austen novel in terms of melodramatic heartache, but Ludwig was determined to not let it show any more than he already had. Gilbert had been honest with him, after all. He didn’t feel the same. He was young. He had little experience in dissecting emotions and little interest in doing so, from what Ludwig could tell.

 

So Ludwig forced himself to be content and to think of it as Gilbert’s game. One that could end with him in jail and with unrequited feelings keeping him awake every night, but no game was complete without the prospect of injury. He kept himself busy the following week so as to not let it bother him as much as was humanly possible.

 

Preparations for London ensured that there was never a lack of things to do. A week after the slightly awkward conversation, Ludwig closed the last latch on Gilbert’s trunk and dragged it down to the foyer. Gilbert had put off packing until the very last minute, of course, and Ludwig had been stuck with the task of making well sure nothing was forgotten. The stress of preparations and Gilbert’s lackadaisical attitude had cumulated in a horrible fight. Ludwig had felt nothing resembling love towards the young lord that entire morning, and a mantra of ‘brat’ was echoing inside his skull, fueling his irritation.

 

Gilbert was no better. Every look he shot Ludwig’s way was laced with annoyance, and when Ludwig had tried to fix his coat he’d muttered, “Entitled pricks don’t need help from valets,” and had pulled away.

 

Ludwig had had to go behind the house and help bring in a few heavy crates of supplies before his temper was sufficiently calm enough to rejoin the family in the sitting room.

 

The entire family was gathered there, fussing over the children and explaining the current situation to the newly returned Kirkland. The man had raised one bushy eyebrow when he’d been told of Gilbert’s accident, and a very clipped, “I will see to it that necessary safety arrangements are made in the future” made Ludwig want to hide with shame. He had been in charge of the hunt, after all, in one fashion or another, and Gilbert’s injury still spoke to him of failure on his part. Next to Gilbert sat Lady Horschhorn, and she seemed content to busy herself with her son. She looked miserably worried, if her furrowed brow had anything to say about it, and she fussed and fretted over Gilbert while they waited for the motor carriage to pull up around the drive.

 

“You’re sure you’re feeling well enough to travel?” she asked for what must have been the thousandth time. She reached out to fix Gilbert’s lapels again, smoothing out the creases with a veritable neurotic single-mindedness. For Ludwig, it was strange to see the normally composed woman so flustered, and it was impacting his own nerves more than he cared to admit, even to himself. He would be in charge of the three children and Gilbert for the travel portion of the trip. Eliza would do a much better job of taking care of Roderich than him, and Vash was a wild card so there was no helping him there, but the responsibility was enough to make him nervous on top of the irritation he felt towards Gilbert.

 

There was a heavy scowl on Gilbert’s face that had been a near constant presence for the past few days, and he batted his mother’s hand gently away as he groused, “Every time you ask me that I hear the call of the open road even more. It isn’t as though we’re going across the ocean or even to the home in France. I’ll be fine. The farmhand is here and God knows he looks boorish enough to ward off even the most persistent of muggers.”

 

For once Lady Horschhorn did not correct Gilbert’s nickname for Ludwig, and Ludwig found he missed the little mini lecture that usually followed. He stood off in the corner, listening to Kirkland’s spiel about safety, nodding half-heartedly every so often. As aggravated as he was by Gilbert he hated fighting with him. Gilbert always reverted to being a complete brat and he to a sullen, resentful worker. It was difficult to hide such things from the rest of the family, and that alone was making Ludwig look forward to leaving the manor for a few weeks. They could use some privacy, although how much of that London would be able to afford was uncertain.

 

Out front the motor car’s horn blasted and the children ran excitedly to the window, pressing their faces against the glass. Kirkland winced slightly at the smudges they left behind, but soon he and Peeters moved forward to usher them outside. Gilbert trailed behind, his mother still clinging to his arm.

 

Ludwig made to follow when a hand on his shoulder stopped him. Lord Horschhorn gave him a small smile and then said lightly, “I hope you do realize the level of trust we are placing in you, Schmidt. Peeters’ brother will be at my mother’s estate to ensure you are taken care of but you are responsible for them until they arrive.”

 

“I understand, my lord,” Ludwig said, inclining his head slightly. The extreme anxiety he’d felt earlier in the week had returned full force, his annoyance with Gilbert no longer enough to keep it from bubbling over. The earl gave him another smile and clapped him on the shoulder before shooing him outside as well. Ludwig helped the driver and Kirkland load the luggage onto the car while the lord and lady said their goodbyes to their son and niece and nephews. Ludwig stood politely off to the side, getting some slight satisfaction when Lord Horschhorn lectured Gilbert on something that made the young lord’s face flush.

 

The children clambered into the car and Gilbert followed after them, taking the seat next to Roderich. After receiving a list of Dos and Donts from Kirkland (along with yet another lecture) Ludwig climbed into the car as well and took the open seat next to Eliza. She immediately latched onto his arm and began babbling about all of the exciting things they were to see when they were in London and how pretty her nana’s house was. Ludwig listened politely, barely able to hear her over the roar of the engine and the clattering of the wheels as the car trundled down the road.

 

It was a two hour ride to the station, and once there Ludwig practically stumbled out of the car, his head ringing and his back killing him. The estate car was slightly old and it was obvious its shocks needed some work. The children seemed unaffected and went darting out towards the ticket window. Even Vash seemed taken by some odd energy and was running along with them, amiably nudging Roderich out of the way so he could reach the ticket booth first.

 

Gilbert climbed out much more slowly, a slightly pained look on his face. Ludwig automatically moved to help him, but the glare he received made him take a step back and leave Gilbert to fend for himself. Gilbert walked over to his cousins and got them to calm down while he received their tickets, leaving Ludwig standing by the car and feeling slightly useless until the driver tapped him on the shoulder and asked him for help with the luggage.

 

It took them several minutes to unload it onto the platform, and by the time they were done Gilbert and the children had gone into the station. Ludwig quickly wished the driver a safe return and then hurried inside, looking around for them. He rounded a corner onto the platform and then caught sight of the four down towards the end. His steps slowed as snippets of voices reached him. Gilbert was standing up in front of a bench where the three children were seated, a protective look on his face and his hands on his hips.

 

“No, Vash, you can’t jump on the tracks to feel them rumble are you insane?”

 

Gilbert’s appalled tone made Ludwig smile in spite of himself and he approached the group quietly, not wanting to ruin the moment. Gilbert looked oddly paternal as he chided his cousins for running around, and the annoyed look on his face was nearly identical to the one his father wore when Gilbert was caught acting inappropriately.

 

The three children glanced up as he approached (Roderich looking immediately away again) and after a bit Gilbert turned to look at him as well.

 

“That certainly took you long enough,” he muttered, moving slightly away from Ludwig.

 

“My apologies, my lord. Your luggage was a good deal heavier than I remembered it being,” Ludwig said dryly, and Eliza let out a quiet giggle before she piped up as well.

 

“Are you and Mr. Schmidt fighting, Gilbert? You don’t seem happy that he’s here.”

 

Gilbert had the decency to look embarrassed, which apparently was all the answer Eliza needed. She let out a little sigh and then said patiently, “Gilbert you should just apologize! It’s probably your fault anyway, he’s such a sweet valet and you abuse him horribly it’s no wonder he’s cross with you.”

 

“He is not—sweet…” Gilbert said, his voice losing momentum halfway through the outburst.

 

“He is so he read us a story every day this past week,” Eliza protested. “You’re such a child, Gilbert, just say you’re sorry.”

 

“I’m not a child!” Gilbert snapped, to which Eliza and Vash rolled their eyes and Roderich looked like he very much wanted to join in as well. Gilbert scowled and muttered under his breath, “To hell with you all,” and then moved on down the platform to sit by himself. He cast little glances towards them every now and then, a sulky look on his face.

 

Eliza sighed again and then patted the space next to her.

 

“You may sit, if you like,” she said to Ludwig in her charming, girlish way.

 

He offered her a weak smile and accepted the invitation with a quiet thanks. Eliza and Vash struck up a conversation about some bug or another they were keeping as a pet in the classroom, Roderich chiming in every so often to berate the two for leaving it alone when it probably would have enjoyed London very much. Ludwig listened to the little conversation but his gaze drifted towards Gilbert every so often. The young lord was kicking small pebbles at the tracks and behaving far more childishly than his younger cousins. The part of Ludwig that was still angry with him found his stubbornness infuriating, but some other part found the little temper tantrum oddly adorable in its own vexatious way.

 

“God I’m hopeless,” Ludwig muttered to himself, turning away again when he caught himself staring.

 

“Hm?”

 

Eliza peered up at him, her green eyes curious.

 

Ludwig’s cheeks colored and he quickly shook his head and muttered, “Nothing, my lady.”

 

She laughed and reached up to pat his cheek. “You can go talk to Gilbert, if you want,” she said pleasantly. “I can watch over these two and you’re not really paying much attention anyway, did you know that? You keep looking over there and I bet Vash could jump off the platform and you wouldn’t even notice.”

 

“I’d notice,” Ludwig protested, quickly adding, “my lady” when Vash scowled at him.

 

Eliza gave a delicate little roll of her eyes and then pushed on Ludwig’s shoulder. “Go talk to him. That’s an order. Or, no, order is too mean. That is a very polite but firm request.” She pushed harder. “Go on, up you get.”

 

Ludwig reluctantly stood, slightly humiliated to be bossed around by a thirteen year old but able to see the slight wisdom in her words. Gilbert was so stubborn he would gladly let this little spat blow up into something huge before relenting, and enough time had passed that Ludwig was able to quell his own anger enough to be the bigger man. With a little sigh he headed down the platform and stopped in front of Gilbert’s bench.

 

The young lord glared up at him for a moment before looking away.

 

“What do you want, farmhand. I’m busy.”

 

He kicked another pebble onto the tracks, his boot scuffing against Ludwig’s very slightly.

 

“I can see that,” Ludwig deadpanned, taking a step back so he would be out of kicking range.

 

He fell silent and Gilbert seemed unwilling to speak as well, favoring instead trading pebbles for rolled up newspapers that had been abandoned on the platform. One by one they went sailing over the edge, and Ludwig briefly wondered if that was some sort of safety hazard. It nagged at him enough finally that he moved to go pick them up. He jumped down on the tracks and caught Vash’s indignant cry of, “How come he gets to?” After quickly gathering up the papers Ludwig hoisted himself back onto the tracks, a slight scowl on his face. He deposited the papers next to Gilbert and then said tersely, “If you could throw your tantrum without endangering the entire train I would be very grateful.”

 

Gilbert rolled his eyes. “Yes, I am sure a gigantic zillion tonne train can’t handle a few newspapers on its tracks. Heavens, farmhand, you may very well have saved us all. Bravo.”

 

“It doesn’t hurt to—”

 

Ludwig stopped himself and took a deep breath, trying to keep calm. Gilbert resumed kicking things, but curiously left the newspapers alone. Ludwig remained standing next to him for quite some time before he finally spoke, his voice as quiet as he could make it.

 

“I missed getting to read with you last night.”

 

Gilbert’s foot paused in its kicking for a moment before resuming.

 

“It’s not as though you didn’t know where I was,” he finally muttered, giving one stubborn rock a vicious kick. It went sailing over the edge and clear to the far tracks. “You could have come up.”

 

“We both know you would have turned me away or pulled some other stunt designed to make me feel even worse about myself,” Ludwig said quietly. “This may come as a shock to you, but you are not an easy man to deal with when you feel you have been wronged.”

 

“I could say the same about you. Is pig-headedness a common trait among blue collar workers or am I just lucky enough to have been saddled with the worst offender?” Gilbert said scathingly.

 

“It’s as prevalent as it is among nobility so I suppose we both got unlucky,” Ludwig shot back.

 

Gilbert glared at him but said nothing more. They fell silent again and Ludwig checked on the cousins to make sure they weren’t fighting or doing anything else reckless and stupid. They were playing some sort of clapping game with Eliza clearly in charge and so he deemed them safe enough for the time being. Beside him, Gilbert had run out of things to kick and so had drawn his knees up to his chest, perching like an annoyed vulture on the edge of the bench.

 

Ludwig stared at him for a moment and then asked quietly, “Do you even remember what we’re arguing about?”

 

“Of course I do,” Gilbert snapped, hugging his knees. “You were angry when I put off packing even though I told you it wouldn’t take that long and you wouldn’t believe me and then you said I expect you to do everything for me and I said of course I do that’s your job you idiot and then you got angry and called me a selfish prick and I called you an uneducated louse infested waste of air and then it got a bit nasty and you left in a very un-valet-like manner and were still upset with me the next morning even though nothing I said was untrue which is entirely ridiculous not to mention a fire-able offense if I had the mind to do so.”

 

“Nothing you said was untrue?” Ludwig narrowed his eyes. “So you still consider me an uneducated louse infested… whatever?”

 

“Right now, yes, you’re not endearing yourself to me very much,” Gilbert said, his lips set in a stubborn line.

 

Ludwig made a frustrated noise and ran his fingers through his hair before letting out a slow breath. As embarrassing as it was, the thought that Eliza would scold him if he didn’t at least try a bit harder was motivating him more than anything at that moment. She could be a bit… intense.

 

He sat down next to Gilbert, ignoring the young lord’s growling and obstinate shoving and general overreaction to the invasion of his personal space. When he didn’t shut up after a full minute of complaining Ludwig covered his mouth with his hand, ignoring the squeal of anger, and then said very quietly, “I’ll be the one to say I’m sorry first this time.”

 

Gilbert’s red eyes blinked in surprise, and he stared at Ludwig for a second before muttering, “Well I’m not.”

 

“I don’t care,” Ludwig said, feeling slightly weary. “You can call me whatever you want as long as I know you don’t actually believe it. Although the more you say them the more I start to take them to be your true feelings and it gets harder and harder to cope.”

 

Gilbert pushed Ludwig’s hand away but said nothing, his eyes fixed on a small crack in the platform’s foundation. He swallowed heavily, and Ludwig could hear him fidgeting in his seat even though he couldn’t really see him all that well.

 

“I never thought you would actually get that mad at me ever again.”

 

Ludwig frowned at the quiet words and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

 

“Why on earth would you think that?” he asked, honestly a bit bemused. “You know I have a temper. I’ve apologized for it before and I’m sure I will again.”

 

Gilbert shook his head and picked at a small thread in his trousers that Ludwig had missed. In Ludwig’s defense Gilbert had refused to stay still and was mocking him the entire time which did tend to make concentrating on not giving up and just stabbing Gilbert with the trimming scissors an ultimate test of patience.

 

“Because you said that… you said that you uh. L…”

 

Gilbert made a frustrated noise and finally seemed to resign himself and just spat out the words in one unending stream.

 

“Because you said that you love me. And whenever that happens in books that usually marks the end of things and you’re left to assume that whatever euphoric state the two were in at the end continues on for forever. Or if it does not come at the end then if they do fight it’s always about something terrible like a murder or a betrayal they don’t fight about when to pack that’s ridiculous they love each other why would something so small be enough to set off a fight where one of them leaves and the other is left to be horribly alone in their room and worry about too many things and not have that person there to reassure them that it’s not nearly as bad as they’re making it out to be. That’s so petty and small and love is so huge how can it be tarnished by something like that?”

 

Gilbert fell silent, an angry and miserable look on his face. He continued to stare at the platform floor, his fingers gripping his arms with a resolute stubbornness.

 

Ludwig had listened patiently, fighting not to interrupt the entire time, and when Gilbert finally stopped talking he shifted very slightly to brush his fingers against the younger man’s.

 

“Life is not a book,” he said quietly. “It honestly isn’t all that exciting. Murders and intrigue and betrayals are few and far between. Most of life is a series of moderately good times peppered with small skirmishes that in the end never amount to much. And heartbreak and love lost for most people isn’t a grand adventure either. After years and years and too many small fights something like loyalty or love can become a twisted noose and all it does is slowly tighten around your neck and try and snap your spine in a decidedly monotonous and uninteresting manner. But Gilbert…”

 

He leaned in closer as he said very, very softly, “You will know if ever what I feel for you changes. And until then no fight like that… not even if you called me something ten times worse would be enough to so completely warp that emotion that I could no longer recognize it. As long as you’re sorry when the dust finally settles I’ll be sorry too. And things will mend and then the next time you have to pack I will know not to harass you about it and you will know that I don’t enjoy being reminded of my purported inferior position and we will go about our day. Better men for it.”

 

Gilbert’s ears were red by the time Ludwig was done and he pushed at the valet’s shoulder, very lightly.

 

“Where in God’s name did you ever learn to talk like that?” he mumbled, casting a slightly nervous look Ludwig’s way. “Do you have some secret mistress somewhere who whispers these things in your ear for you to repeat to me?”

 

Ludwig shrugged and sat back, a polite, neutral expression on his face.

 

“I highly doubt any woman alive would want to encourage this,” he said dryly. “I learned it from who knows where. From you, maybe. Too many late nights when sleepiness makes you endearingly chatty and loose with your affections.”

 

“I told you that I cannot be held accountable for anything said when I am either drugged or exhausted,” Gilbert muttered, his ears going red again. He fiddled with the loose thread a moment longer and then glanced up at Ludwig.

 

“So you still… love me?” he asked, his voice almost painfully shy.

 

Ludwig gave the younger man a small smile and reached out to brush his hand against Gilbert’s again.

 

“You might think me an idiot, but yes. I still do,” he said quietly. “Even when I’m annoyed with you beyond narrative possibility some part of me does.”

 

A look of utter relief passed over Gilbert’s face and he sat back with a little puff of air.

 

“There is no ‘might’ in that sentence, farmhand. You are a consummate idiot,” he drawled, tapping his fingers against the bench. “It’s very lucky for you that I’m so hard to get rid of. Without me you’d probably jump back down on those tracks if you saw a pebble obstructing them, even with a train bearing down on you. And then there would be a squeal of brakes and a horrible shower of blood and innumerable cries of ‘oh the humanity’ before everyone realized it was just the death of some idiot and went on their way.”

 

“Let’s save the talks of my hypothetical stupidity for another time,” Ludwig said. “Although thank you for the vivid imagery.” He stood and offered Gilbert a hand, which the young lord readily took, and the two headed over to where Gilbert’s cousins were obviously doing their best to pretend like they hadn’t been staring. Only Roderich looked truly embarrassed, and the smile Eliza shot their way was pure innocence.

 

“Did you make up?” she asked sweetly, ducking just in time to avoid a swipe from Gilbert.

 

“No thanks to your meddling you conniving thing,” Gilbert said, taking a seat next to Eliza so he could grind his knuckles against her head. She let out an unladylike shriek and shoved him away, laughing as she still teased, “You look so much happier, Gilbert. Isn’t it nice to have a friend, even if it’s only your servant?”

 

“Don’t be daft, woman, Ludwig isn’t just a servant,” Gilbert muttered, pushing his cousin away.

 

Eliza giggled as she picked herself up again and scooted closer, murmuring in a sing-song voice, “You called him Ludwig…”

 

Gilbert’s eyes widened in shock and his whole face turned bright red. He stammered for a moment, but when Vash started to snicker as well he snapped out, “So what? It’s his name, isn’t it?”

 

“But even when Uncle Wolfy asks you to you don’t call him by even his surname, never mind his Christian one,” Roderich said quietly, his blue eyes fixed on Gilbert.

 

“Yes, well, Father isn’t here right now, is he? I can call him what I want,” Gilbert muttered, obviously trying to save face. “So shut up the three of you. It’s not important.”

 

Eliza merely laughed again and then reached up to tug on Ludwig’s sleeve.

 

“Mr. Schmidt, may I call you Ludwig too, please?” she asked politely, and her demeanor was so sweet and endearing Ludwig found himself weakly agreeing. The look Gilbert shot him was not a very nice one, but the conductor at that moment chose to announce the train’s arrival which distracted them enough for the conversation to be forgotten.

 

Ludwig quickly headed off to makes sure their luggage had the proper tags, returning just in time for the train to pull up to the platform. Eliza took Roderich’s hand, causing her cousin’s face to go bright red, and Gilbert took a hold of Vash by the scruff of his neck. When Ludwig looked alarmed Gilbert shook his head and said dryly, “If you try and hold his hand he wiggles away and loses himself in the crowd.”

 

“I’m training to be a spy, I’ve told you that,” Vash muttered irritably, shoving half-heartedly at Gilbert. “I have to practice.”

 

“As if Aunt Sylvia would let you do anything half so dangerous,” Roderich said with a little sniff.

 

“What would you know?” Vash shot back, turning his glare on Roderich. The other boy immediately cowered behind Eliza and she patted his back gently.

 

“Enough, you two, or Gilbert will throw you off the train like he did to our cousin Emmett,” she said, a bit of a warning in her voice.

 

“I don’t believe Emmett was ever real,” Vash said, dragging his feet as Gilbert headed towards the first class cars. “You made him up.”

 

“I did not!” Eliza protested, reaching out to flick Gilbert’s ear. “Tell them about Emmett, Gil.”

 

Gilbert let out a heavy sigh and his eyes clouded over with distant memories. Ludwig was reminded in that moment of what an incredibly good actor Gilbert was, and he had to fight to hide a smile as Gilbert began narrating the little tale.

 

“About eight years ago we had another cousin, Emmett,” he began mournfully, stepping onto the train after showing the conductor their first class tickets. “He was a horrible beast of a boy and used to kill birds and shoot rocks at cats. He even tried to drown me once in the pond. He was wicked through and through but Mother and Father didn’t believe me. So one day I hatched a plan. I would be rid of Emmett once and for all and – Eliza this way we’re number five – and then I would be the oldest cousin. A very prominent position it is, oldest cousin. Emmett wouldn’t want to give it up easily. One day we were on the train heading to Grandmama’s, just like we’re doing today, and Emmett started mocking me again. Telling me how unsettling my eyes were and how much he hated me and finally it grew to be too much. I begged him to stop and bribed him with a sweet I would purchase from one of the carts. He was a fat, horrible thing and so agreed immediately. I led him down the aisle of the car, but just before we reached the little stand the train gave a horrible lurch. I’d planned it this way, you see, timing it just right so that the train would be hitting that awful bend. The one that always makes Roderich cry. And as he stumbled I dashed over to the door and opened it, and with one swift kick to his midsection Emmett went flying out of the car. He landed in a heap in a pile of shit soaked hay by the side of the tracks, and I shut the door and never heard from him again. He was probably adopted by a farmer and lived the rest of his days toiling in the fields.”

 

The two male cousins fell quiet, awed by the story and the use of a well-timed expletive. Vash had a slightly troubled look on his face, and he muttered, “I still don’t believe you,” but there was a hint of fear in his voice.

 

Ludwig bit his lip to keep from giving Gilbert away, but the young lord played the part of contrite cousin-murderer so well it was hard not to find it morbidly endearing. He then opened the compartment door, ushering the cousins inside. Roderich immediately took a seat by the window and Eliza followed him, giving Gilbert an amused grin.

 

“Poor Emmett,” she said mournfully. “This is why we are to never make fun of your eyes or try and drown you in the pond, right, Gilbert?”

 

“Expertly phrased, Eliza dear,” Gilbert drawled, taking the seat across from Roderich and patting the spot next to him for Ludwig to sit down. “That is exactly right.”

 

Ludwig took his seat and shut the door, trying to keep his expression as serious as Eliza and Gilbert’s. Roderich’s brow was furrowed, however, and after a moment he spoke up.

 

“But you said he lived out the rest of his days. If that was only eight years ago then how could he have died already?” he asked very slowly.

 

“Ah. A farmer’s life is a terribly trying thing,” Gilbert said seriously, patting Ludwig’s shoulder. “It’s why the farmhand here is so incredibly burly and short tempered. It’s how they survive. Emmett was weak and so perished under the lash.”

 

“Under the lash – is he in ancient Egypt or modern day Britain?” Ludwig muttered, to which Gilbert indignantly replied, “They still use lashes! You showed me the scars!”

 

Immediately three pairs of eyes fixed on him with intense curiosity. Ludwig shifted uncomfortably and shot the young lord a little glare.

 

“I showed you, yes. That doesn’t mean I want to go around sharing personal stories with your entire extended family,” he muttered, pitching forward a bit as the train started to move.

 

Gilbert opened his mouth to argue but then seemed to think better of it and remained silent.

 

“…Can we see them?” Vash finally asked, still staring at Ludwig.

 

“No,” Ludwig muttered, and immediately he was beset by Eliza and Vash, the former whining pitifully and the latter demanding that he show them. Ludwig cast Gilbert a helpless look and the younger man quickly moved forward to tug Vash off.

 

“Let’s try and respect the farmhand’s privacy, all right?” he said, setting Vash down again.

 

“He’s a servant, he doesn’t get privacy,” Vash said, glaring at Gilbert. “You said that yourself about the last valet when we stole his suitcase.”

 

“That was different – I thought he was hiding chocolate from me,” Gilbert quickly explained, a harried look on his face. “And anyway Ludwig’s intrinsically different from that little rat. I actually like him and I don’t want him to quit like the others so behave yourselves.”

 

Vash seemed unimpressed and sat back in his seat with a little sulk. Eliza finally pushed herself away from Ludwig, but her green eyes were still bright with interest.

 

“…I’ll show you my appendix scar if you show me yours,” she said, her voice slightly wheedling.

 

“I’m not interested,” Ludwig muttered, and then said a quiet ‘ow’ when Vash kicked him in the shins.

 

“My lady,” Ludwig added, getting a bit of satisfaction when Gilbert whacked the back of his cousin’s head.

 

“Don’t just kick my valet as you please, Vash, that’s terribly rude,” said Gilbert with a little sniff. “Only I get to kick him around and then only when he isn’t looking. You have to be sneaky about these things.”

 

“He keeps forgetting Eliza’s title,” Vash pointed out, rubbing the back of his head and scowling. “And none of you care enough to do anything about it. Uncle would be furious if he knew.”

 

“No he wouldn’t,” Gilbert said with a little scoff. “He doesn’t care and Eliza’s still a kid. Why should a kid have to get a title anyway?”

 

“If I’m still a kid then so are you,” Eliza said fiercely, the talk of scars seemingly forgotten in favor of bickering. “And Ludwig forgets your title all the time but he remembers mine more often than not so just drop it, Vash!”

 

She turned to Ludwig and pointed a finger at him, a stubborn look on her face that reminded Ludwig uncomfortably of Gilbert.

 

“And you! Show us your scars or buy us some sort of snack. Those are our demands and you aren’t leaving this car until you fulfill them!”

 

She reached over and locked the compartment door as though to prove her point and gave Ludwig a threatening glare.

 

Ludwig blanched slightly at the sudden ultimatum, but finally with a reluctant sigh he undid his coat and unbuttoned the top button on his shirt. He turned around and tugged the shirt down to expose his shoulder where just the beginnings of the scars could be seen. They really weren’t all that deep or impressive, and Ludwig usually forgot they were even there. It hadn’t been until Gilbert had run his hands over them and asked that Ludwig even remembered.

 

The children all made impressed noises, but Gilbert remained silent.

 

“Do they hurt?” Vash asked, a hint of admiration in his voice. “They look like they hurt something awful.”

 

“Scars don’t hurt,” Roderich mumbled. “Not when they’re old.”

 

“He’s right, they don’t hurt,” Ludwig said, turning back around and ignoring the disappointed noises Eliza and Vash made. He quickly got dressed again, feeling more than a little embarrassed even if the cousins now all were staring at him with newfound respect in their eyes. Even Roderich.

 

“How did you get them?” Eliza asked curiously. “Was it really from a lash?”

 

“Yes, but did not get them from working a farm or anything ridiculous like that, no matter what your cousin says.” Ludwig said, trying to sound as dismissive as possible. He didn’t want to go into too much gruesome detail with such an attentive yet young audience. “I’m afraid it’s a very boring story. In India I ran into a bit of trouble with some thugs and I had the misfortune of being captured. I was rescued only a few days later and the ordeal overall wasn’t terrible. The bugs were worse than anything they did to me. I was down with malaria for a good three months after that.”

 

“You were in India?” Eliza sounded completely enchanted. A dreamy look came over her face before she began pelting Ludwig with questions. “What was it like? Did you ride an elephant? Do you like spicy food, then? I hear they walk around barefoot all the time and it’s perfectly fine, did you walk around barefoot? Are the markets as colorful as the pictures I have in my book?”

 

Ludwig blinked at the sudden onslaught and cast Gilbert a questioning look, but the young lord merely smiled and gestured for him to go on. Ludwig hesitated a moment and then carefully answered Eliza’s questions, taken aback by the enthusiastic encouragement from all of them, Roderich included.

 

When the stories were done it was lunchtime, and they ate listening to Gilbert tell his tales of misadventure, and although the cousins seemed to feature prominently in almost all of them they reacted as though they were mere listeners with appropriately timed oohs and aahs. Ludwig was grateful to have the attention off of him, and by the time the train pulled into King’s Cross all three of the cousins were riled up and talking a mile a minute about their old hiding places in the manor. Eliza took Roderich’s hand and Gilbert grabbed hold of Vash again as they disembarked.

 

The heat and smell of London hit him the moment Ludwig stepped off the train. Stuffy, late summer air and soot and far too many sweaty people for his liking, all smothered by a horrible, constant din. He left Gilbert and the cousins next to a prominent pillar and told them to stay while he went and checked on their luggage. All of it had made the trip safely, and he handed the instructions to the driver of a cab and promised to return soon to help him load the car.

 

The station was a mess of people, and Ludwig, having never been there, grew lost on his way back. He wandered around for nearly a quarter of an hour, growing increasingly panicked as he went. But finally he spotted the correct number on the pillar and headed towards it.

 

When he got there, however, Gilbert and the cousins were gone.

 

Ludwig checked around the pillar twice, panic seizing him when he realized that they were nowhere to be found anywhere in the vicinity. He clambered atop a bench and stared out over the crowd, trying to spot them in the sea of black traveling coats. The scenario could have been one of two things. The more likely one where they had simply wandered off chasing some small curiosity or another, or the less likely one where they had been kidnapped and were now dead by the side of the tracks somewhere.

 

Scenario two for some reason continued to win out over the reasonable one.

 

He finally spotted a shock of white hair and let out a relieved breath. No old man could move that easily through the crowd. It had to be Gilbert.

 

He jumped off the bench and hurried towards the speck, finally catching up with Gilbert. He grabbed the young lord’s arm and raised his voice to be heard over the din of the crowd.

 

“Why did you wander off? Where are the others?”

 

Gilbert started and turned around, and when he saw the look on the young lord’s face Ludwig’s heart sank. Gilbert’s cheeks were red and his eyes were wide with panic. He took hold of Ludwig’s coat, tugging him down so he could speak at a normal volume.

 

“Roderich’s gone missing.”

 

Ludwig’s eyes widened and his heart sank in his chest. He stood up straight and stared out over the mass of people pushing and shoving at each other and past the soot covered pillars. A train whistle blasted nearby, covering up Ludwig’s quiet curse.

 

Well.

 

Now what.


	19. Mend(a)city

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SCHOOL HAS STARTED and it’s terrible. my heart goes out to all others in a similar boat.
> 
> also roderich is a little shit. i’m not sorry.

The press of the crowd and the smoke and shriek of the engines made navigating Kings Cross incredibly difficult, even for someone as large as Ludwig. He pushed aside the mass of people as best he could, blue eyes constantly scanning the swarms for any sign of Roderich.

It figured that he would be the one to get lost. Roderich who acted so timid but who had a terrible rebellious streak that he was devious enough not to show until he knew he could actually get away with something. When Gilbert had dragged Ludwig back to Elizaveta she had tearfully broken down and told him that Roderich had stormed off because she had been too ‘bossy’ (a statement that Ludwig felt far too land-minish to go anywhere near) and begged him to find her cousin.  
Ludwig always had been weak to crying women – or really crying people of either sex – and even if she hadn’t clung to his hand and begged him so piteously he would have thrown himself into the horde of people anyway to search for the boy. Roderich was in his charge and he had let him get lost. It wasn’t Elizaveta’s fault, nor Roderich’s (although Ludwig had to forcibly convince himself of that latter point). He should never have left them on his own and once the boy was found he was sure he was going to succumb to guilt and Gilbert would most likely have to drag him back up as he always did.

But the day was growing later and later and there was still no sign of him. Ludwig had alerted a station master and had been told, in essence, tough luck. It had taken considerable effort not to slug the man, and had Gilbert not been there his language would have no doubt degraded into something even a sailor would blush to hear.

Beside him Gilbert was showing obvious signs of exhaustion. There were terrible bags around his eyes and his pale skin was flushed to an ugly, blotchy red from the autumn heat. Ludwig gently tugged him out of the flow of traffic to rest against a pillar. He took out his handkerchief and handed it to the younger man, who took it with a grateful, weary smile.

“I’m sorry I have such a brat for a cousin,” he said, dabbing at his face and blanching when the cloth came back gray.

“I merely consider it proof that you are related,” Ludwig said not unkindly, taking the cloth to wipe a bead of sweat from Gilbert’s nose. “But we should split up. The station is too large – there’s no way we will find him pushing through the crowd together.”

“If we find him,” Gilbert muttered, running fingers through his damp hair. “This place is a mad house, and Roderich is incredibly naive. He’s probably been taken by slavers or accidentally signed up for the army and been shipped off to Brazil or God knows where.”

“I’m sure we can agree that neither of those scenarios is very likely,” said Ludwig, tucking his handkerchief into his pocket again. “I’ll sweep the northern half, you take the southern. And keep an eye out for Eliza and Vash and remind them of the meeting place and time. I don’t want the number of Horschhorn children to decrease any further.”

Gilbert gave a tired salute, and ducked around the pillar, disappearing into the crowd.

Ludwig tugged down his cap a bit more, glad he had left his finer valet clothes at home. It was easier to blend in and far easier to move without being encumbered by finery. He moved back into mob, not nearly as gracefully as Gilbert (there was a good deal of shoving on his part and none too few glares cast his way) and headed north.

There was a reason he had moved to the countryside after returning from India. He’d been raised on a small farm and that was what he’d been accustomed to. Change was tolerable, for a while, but among so many people he got snappish and irritable far easier than when he had some place of solace to which he could retreat that wasn’t a church. Losing Roderich was only serving to remind him more and more of why he had made the right decision in moving. No penthouse was worth this.

A group of older women fluttered by, their large skirts tugging along soot and other refuse that was strewn across the station floor. Ludwig reluctantly stepped aside to let him pass. He was not rude enough to bully his way through a gaggle of women, no matter how much space they were taking up. Just as the last woman passed him, however, he caught a strain of a high pitched laugh that he recognized immediately. He turned, shocked, just in time to see the women usher Roderich off to a bench where they sat down and began to fuss over him. Roderich had a very pleased smile on his face and a small cake in his hand, which had a rather large bite taken out of it. There were crumbs around his lips and his clothes were gray with soot in some places, but he appeared unharmed.

A wave of relief nearly knocked Ludwig over, and he quickly hurried towards the group, catching bits of their conversation.

“…-and so very brave of you to travel all by yourself, little sir,” one of the women cooed, fixing Roderich’s hair. “It’s lucky we found you. I’ve called for the station master and he said to wait right here and he will be by shortly to help you find a taxi.”

“Yes, thank you,” Roderich said, discretely licking chocolate off his finger. “And you’ve all been very kind to me. I’ve never traveled by myself.”

The women laughed and fussed over him some more.

Ludwig was slightly stunned by Roderich’s childish lie, and he stopped in his tracks, uncertain how to proceed. Finally he decided that he could simply call the boy out on his lie if any trouble came of it. He moved to stand in front of the bench. The women all looked up as he approached, curious yet wary expressions on their faces.

“May we help you?” one of them asked. She had to be around fifty. Her graying hair was coiled about her head, and her dress and the dresses of the rest of the group all hinted towards extreme wealth. And here he was dressed like the lower class worker he actually was.

Which was perfect. Of course.

Ludwig cleared his throat and gave Roderich a very pointed look that said in no uncertain terms that he was to behave and be truthful.

“I’m actually here for him.”

He winced when he realized how overly aggressive that sounded. The looks of alarm the women were flashing him weren’t helping.

He tried again.

“I’m his cousin’s valet. He ran off from the group and –”

“My good sir, if you are a valet then I am the queen,” one of the women said, fixing Ludwig with a distrusting glare. “And this boy is traveling alone. I am afraid you are mistaken.”

Ludwig shot Roderich another look, but the boy’s eyes were fixated on his cake. He was eating it crumb by crumb, obviously using the sweet as a buffer between him and Ludwig.

Ludwig fought to control his temper and took another step forward.

“Ma’am, I apologize for the harshness of my language but I must ask that you relinquish him to me. I’m in charge of him and his cousins and we really must be going. I can find his cousins and bring them back to you, if you need someone to back my claims.”

“I imagine these supposed ‘cousins’ are part of some street gang you run?” another woman spoke up, resting her hand protectively on Roderich’s shoulder. The boy glanced up at Ludwig, a smug smile on his face before he suddenly opened his mouth and proclaimed loudly, “I have never seen this man before in my life! Someone call the station master!”

Ludwig’s face turned beet red, and he stared aghast at Roderich before taking another step forward as he snapped, “You little liar. Stop your act this instant or I will –”

“Keep your distance, sir!”

One of the women held out her parasol as though it were a lance, the point jabbing Ludwig in the chest. The look of delight on Roderich’s face was infuriating enough to make Ludwig growl quietly, and at the noise the women shrunk back in alarm. It was so rare to see a look of triumph on Roderich’s face that Ludwig felt completely flustered. He never would have dreamed that a boy who had only shown himself to be posh and a bit stuffy would concoct such a devious little lie. It reminded Ludwig uncomfortably of some of Gilbert’s stunts he’d pulled back when they’d first met. Whenever Ludwig had accompanied the young lord into the village Gilbert had enjoyed playing ‘help I’ve been kidnapped’ just to see who would respond. Roderich had probably picked up several of his ideas from his more artfully inclined cousin.

Ludwig let out a slow breath and took a step back so the umbrella was no longer jabbing his ribcage.

“Roderich, I will give you to the count of three,” he said warningly. The boy shifted slightly but the stubborn, haughtiness to his features remained.

“One… two… th—”

Right on three Ludwig felt a large hand on his shoulder, and he turned to find himself staring up into the ruddy, mustached face of one of the station guards. Unfortunately for him, it was not the one he had told about Roderich. Even more unfortunately, the women were already clustering around him and telling him about the horrible brute that had attempted to abscond with the sweet, noble boy they had found crying by one of the exits. 

The icy glare the man gave him made Ludwig exceedingly nervous.

Before he could even attempt to explain his position Roderich was on his feet and confirming the women’s story, his cake smeared face incredibly earnest. Ludwig realized with an unpleasant jolt that that was probably why Eliza doted on him when she did.

A hand closed around his wrist and Ludwig was tugged away, the station master saying something about filing a report and looking into the matter. The women crowded around Roderich again, who barely spared Ludwig a glance before dismissing him with a controlled, aristocratic turn of his head. Ludwig had seen that look too many times. It made his blood boil and his teeth set on edge, but with the guard marching him off there was nothing he could do let the bile churn in his stomach with no target to assail.

Ludwig could feel the eyes of every person in Kings Cross on him as he was led right through the middle of the station. The guard was lecturing him about something involving orphans – Ludwig wasn’t giving the man the slightest bit of attention – when Ludwig heard a familiar voice through the din.

“Ludwig!”

His head snapped up and he glanced wildly around for the source of the noise before he finally spotted Gilbert. The young lord was pushing his way through the crowd, kicking people out of his way left and right, Eliza and Vash on his heels. He stopped directly in front of the guard, hands on his hips, and glared up at the man.

“Unhand my valet at once, sir, or I will have you reported to your superiors,” he said sharply. “And I will be requiring a full explanation from you as to why exactly you are manhandling my friend. By—by which I mean my most prized servant. Yes, that. So. Why?”

“You sort of fell apart at the end there,” Vash muttered, wincing when his cousin socked him in the arm.

The station guard looked unimpressed and seemed to study the three children for a moment before saying slowly, “Ah, I see how it is. You’ve come to rescue your little gang leader by putting on posh airs. Clever, though you did fall apart at the end, there. Where’d you get the nice suits? Nick them out of some unattended luggage?”

Gilbert’s mouth was agape and his eyes wide with complete astonishment.

“I beg your pardon, sir, but he is not my leader,” he said, his voice betraying his utter mortification. “Do you honestly think I would allow myself to be led around by someone who wears a cap as outdated as that? Nor have I ‘nicked’ anything. If your mother had taught you proper hygiene and you had cleaned the soot out of your ears and listened you would know that that man is my valet and I am ordering you to release him.”

“Ordering, eh?” The guard actually looked amused and Ludwig sighed quietly to himself when Gilbert’s face became bright red and his shoulders started to shake in that funny little way he had that meant he was about to do something very stupid.

“Yes, sir, and I use that word very loosely here, I am ordering you,” he said sharply, taking a little step forward. “Do you get your jollies from parading grown men about the station? Why on earth are you carting him about like some common prisoner?”

“’Cos he is one?” the man said, raising a bushy eyebrow. Traces of his accent remained underneath his affected upper crust diction. It was extremely grating and Ludwig was quickly growing tired of hearing it. “He was tryin’ to steal a little rich boy away for some gang or somethin’, I haven’t really looked thoroughly into the matter yet. But the women vouched for the boy an’ he did seem genuinely frightened of him so I thought I best to alleviate the situation. If you’ve got a problem you can bring it up with the station master.”

A puzzled look crossed Gilbert’s face for a moment, but then understanding seemed to dawn. Eliza and Vash cast each other knowing looks and took a small step back away from Gilbert.

“I see,” Gilbert said in a clipped voice. “And this little boy, did he have glasses and a stubborn lock of hair that juts up out of his head like failed rigging on a ship?”

The man scratched his cheek and then said slowly, “He did have somethin’ weird about his hair, yeah…”

Gilbert pulled his wallet out of his trouser pocket and opened it to show the station guard the picture he had inside of himself and his cousins.

“If I may take custody of my valet, now,” he said dryly, turning his hand subtly so that the reflection of the ring that bore his family crest shone right in the man’s eye.

The station guard stared at the picture for a long moment and then let out a low, drawn out ‘oooh…’

He immediately let go of Ludwig’s arm, and Ludwig stepped away to join Gilbert, patting Eliza on the head when she hugged him and whispered that starting a ragtag gang sounded like fun.

“My apologies, my lord, er, your lordship,” the man said quickly, falling over his words. “The boy was – er his… his littler lordship was quite convincin’ an’ you’ll ‘ave to forgive any, er… assumptions on my part, I was, er, only doin’ my job as—”

 

“If you say ‘er’ one more time I will stuff your tie down your throat until your windpipe bursts,” Gilbert said quietly, staring fixedly at the man.

The man blinked and then said slowly, “I don’t think windpipes burst, my lord, they tend more to snap?”

Gilbert closed his eyes, obviously summoning patience from somewhere, for when he opened them again the expression on his face was slightly less homicidal.

“Snap, then,” he said calmly. “I filed a report for my lost cousin at the station room. Please do see to it that it is revoked, and if you would be so kind as to point me in the direction of the purported lost boy I would be grateful.”

The man held up a sausage finger and pointed towards the direction from which they had come. “They’re over there, my lord. I told them not t’ move the boy ‘til I came back so they’re probably still on that bench.”

“Thank you,” Gilbert said, a coin appearing in his hand and deposited in the station guard’s so fast Ludwig wasn’t able to follow the motion.

The man gave an inelegant bob of his head and hurried off. Ludwig watched him go for a moment before giving Gilbert a small smile.

“My hero,” he said quietly, teasing and gratitude coloring his voice. Gilbert’s cheeks flushed slightly but there was a pleased smile on his face that quickly masked the last of his true anger.

“Yes, well, God knows someone had to help you,” he said with a little sniff. “You probably would have let them lock you up without a single word of protest. Why on earth were you being so passive?”

“I didn’t want to cause a scene,” Ludwig said, bending down to pick up Eliza and set her on his shoulders at her silent prompting. “I reasoned that once we were at the station room I could explain my situation and logic would win out. I think they must have sent the least intelligent guard available. No man in their right mind would believe such a hackneyed story.”

“Those women supposedly ate it up easily enough,” Gilbert said, grabbing Vash’s collar and leading the boy towards the direction the guard had indicated. “Either they were senile or Roderich pulled his helpless pathetic little boy alone act. He used to do that for my mother before she grew tired of it and its effectiveness wore off.”

“He still tries it on me sometimes,” Eliza piped up, her fingers burying in Ludwig’s hair to hold on as they walked. “He looks so sad all I want to do is help him, even though I know he is most likely just pretending.”

“You’re a wise woman, Eliza. Never let anyone tell you otherwise,” said Gilbert, still tugging Vash along despite the boy’s insisting that he could walk by himself. “Roderich won’t be able to hide behind some old lady’s skirts once we get him to Granmama’s and I hope you don’t go springing to his defense as you are wont to do, Eliza. This joke has gone too far.”

“I won’t,” Eliza said, unusually subdued. Ludwig gave her leg a little pat and she propped her chin up on his head and fell silent.

When they arrived at the bench Roderich was still being paid good attention to by the circle of women. There was a new piece of cake in his hand and a fresh white handkerchief tucked like an ascot into his shirt. The women were fawning over him as he stuffed his face, and that, more than anything, seemed to be what set Gilbert off

He let go of Vash’s hand and bodily pushed his way past the women, ignoring their protests. A look of fear flashed across Roderich’s face. He abandoned his cake and tried to scramble over the back of the bench but Gilbert caught him and dragged him back, seemingly deaf to Roderich’s panicked howls. A few of the women attempted to engage him both bodily and vocally, one of them threatening in quite a shrill voice that she would call the police. Gilbert shoved Roderich at Ludwig and then turned on the women.

“I thank you for your egregious insults, ladies, but it is my solemn duty to inform you that you have been most expertly duped,” he said, his voice somehow drowning out the women’s cries. Several of them fell silent, but the woman who had been most vocal spoke up again, her skirts swishing anxious across the floor.

“This—this brute of a man attempted to make off with this sweet child,” she protested. “And it is obvious the two of you are in cahoots!”

“Woman, are you so idiotic that you would believe the word of a child’s over that of a grown man’s?” Gilbert asked, aghast. “And he is not a brute he is a trained valet and I should have you all reported for daring to attempt to incarcerate my family’s servant under false pretenses.”

Any and all further protests were silenced by that, and the women exchanged uncomfortable glances.

“The boy seemed genuinely fearful of him,” one of the women finally spoke up. “If the man is truly your valet –”

“And where is it written that bratty aristocratic children always love their servants?” Gilbert drawled, raising an eyebrow. “In fact as far as I am aware the exact opposite is the stereotype.” His lips curled back in an unfriendly smile. “Those reports are starting to sound more and more enticing. Clearly you are all unfit to be walking about untamed. Who knows what other little children you’ve accidentally abducted due to your bleeding hearts.”

“Gilbert, that’s enough,” Ludwig said quietly, reaching out to grab Roderich’s shoulder when the boy attempted to slink away. “We’ve kept your grandmother waiting.”

Gilbert pursed his lips and continued to glare at the women for a moment longer before he inclined his head slightly.

“Ladies,” he said, and then turned away from them and fixed Roderich with an icy stare.

“We will talk about this once we are in private,” he said quietly, his voice eerily devoid of emotion. “But in case you are having doubts, yes, I am extremely furious with you and have half a mind to put you on the next train to Siberia.”

Roderich stared at the ground and said nothing.

Gilbert ignored his cousin after that and took hold of Vash’s collar again to drag him back towards the main exit.

Ludwig tightened his grip on Roderich’s shoulder as much as he dared, trying not to let the frightened whimper make him feel as guilty as it did. It was a dangerous stunt that Roderich had pulled, and honestly Ludwig wasn’t even sure of the boy’s primary motivation.

“Oh Roddie, stop that,” Eliza said in clear exasperation. “I have told you a thousand times that Ludwig isn’t going to hurt you.”

The boy immediately fell silent, but Ludwig could hear him sniffling quietly. He stopped walking and reached up to pick Eliza off his shoulders, setting her down.

“Maybe you could hold his hand instead?” he asked her, dredging up a friendly smile.

She furrowed her brown in obvious dislike but finally took hold of her cousin’s hand as well as Ludwig’s and resumed walking. It was difficult walking three abreast through the crowd, but Ludwig’s size ensured they were given some room to move.

“You really hurt my feelings, Roderich. And Ludwig’s too,” Eliza said, giving her cousin a little glare. “It was horribly cruel of you to play that trick on him.”

“I don’t care,” Roderich said sullenly, attempting to tug his hand out of Eliza’s grip, but she wasn’t letting him go anywhere.

“You should care!” Eliza exclaimed, hurt in her voice. “I know you aren’t pleased with me sometimes when I boss you around but Ludwig has been nothing but kind to you.”

“I don’t like him!” Roderich suddenly exploded, hunching in on himself a bit more. “He’s in and out of Gilbert’s room at strange hours and Gilbert’s acted so differently ever since Uncle took him on as a valet and I’ve heard what the staff say about him! They – they say he’s hurting Gilbert and Uncle and Auntie don’t care no one seems to care but me! He’s not what he pretends to be he’s just a menial laborer and he’s taking advantage of Gilbert’s kindness they’re all murderers and rapists and s-sodo mites and he’s already done horrible things to Gilbert I’ve heard them!”

Several people passing by cast curious glances their way as Roderich stumbled over the obviously rehearsed list of accusations. Ludwig continued walking, his steps not faltering in the slightest, but his face was pale. Gilbert and Vash were too far ahead to have heard, but he could feel Eliza’s small hand in his trembling. He couldn’t be sure if it was over outrage from what her cousin had said or fear that he might be right. But when her fingers tightened around his he felt a rush of gratitude towards the young girl and her unwavering faith in him. Even when it should have done more than simply waver.

“Gilbert wouldn’t let Ludwig stay if he were hurting him,” Eliza quietly snapped, obviously trying not to attract any more attention. Roderich turned to glare at her slightly.

“What if he were being coerced?” His dark blue eyes flicked up to fix on Ludwig’s face, and the incredible depth of hatred there took Ludwig by surprise.

“Roderich, I promise you I’m not hurting your cousin,” he said quietly, trying to be as honest as he could without feeding the boy’s rightful fears. “I don’t know what you heard or saw but I can promise you I care about Gilbert too much to do any of those things.”

Well. Save for maybe the one. But even as he thought it Ludwig felt sick to his stomach and had to look away again. Roderich’s accusations were hitting him hard precisely because they echoed his own worries. Not the murdering, God no, but ever since the physical aspect of their relationship had grown less timid Ludwig had found himself plagued with dreams, all of which he had been too terrified to share with Gilbert. And now his cousin’s rightful paranoia ensured that he probably never would ever voice them, much less act upon them.

“That’s exactly what a murderer to be would say if he were called out on it,” Roderich said accusingly. “And I’ve heard Gilbert yell and – and other things sometimes at night when I can’t sleep. And I know you’re the one to blame and Alex told me I was right.”

“Alex?” Eliza interrupted, a disgusted note in her voice. “Roddie, has Alex been telling you these things?”

Roderich shifted slightly, but the guilty look on his face gave him away.

“He just told me the words, he didn’t tell me what I’d seen,” he said with a confidence that fell painfully flat.

Ludwig felt his blood run cold with either anger or panic, he couldn’t tell which. Of course it would be Alex. Or even several of the other staff as well, there was no reason it couldn’t be more than one of them. He should have known from the moment Roderich started bandying about and mispronouncing words like ‘sodomite.’ No aristocratic twelve year old had any idea what that meant.

“Alex is a thief, I told you he Gilbert’s coat last year,” Eliza said, but Roderich just muttered, “So Gilbert says,” under his voice.

“We saw him wear it!” Eliza snapped. “Uncle even called him out on it but was too soft to let him go after Alex apologized and made up a clever little story about mistaking it for his own. You can’t trust liars and thieves, Roderich, what have I told you?”

“Then why should I have to trust him?” Roderich said sharply, pointing a finger at Ludwig. “All he does is glare at me – probably because he knows I have him figured out and he intimidates me he’s never been nice to me and—”

There came a sharp crack, and Roderich fell heavily to the floor, clutching at his cheek. He stared up at his cousin with a dumbfounded look on his face, seemingly oblivious to the crowd that had gathered around them.

Ludwig winced and attempted to get the situation under control by gently tugging on Eliza’s shoulder but she brushed him off in favor of glaring at her cousin.

“Grow up!” she yelled, her voice shrill with anger. “You’re always blaming everyone else for your problems! Uncle won’t even let me ride a horse or learn fencing anymore like I want to and all you do is whine and complain about it and when Gilbert finally has a valet he likes and can trust you do your best to drag him through the mud and I cannot take any more of it! You are the most selfish thing I have ever met and I cannot believe I tolerated your pathetic clinginess for more than a second!”

Up ahead, Gilbert had finally stopped and was staring back at the group with a look of sheer exhaustion and exasperation on his face. He started walking back, and Ludwig didn’t know whether to tell him to stay away or beg him to come fix this. Roderich had pushed himself up and was scrubbing angrily at the tears trailing down his cheeks, a visible handprint on one of them.

“I-I did see him though,” Roderich said, his voice wavering. He cast a fearful glance at Ludwig, who tried to look as unthreatening as possible. “I saw him sneak into Gilbert’s room and he never went out again and—”

“I don’t care!” Eliza shouted, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. She was shaking so badly with anger that even her curls were trembling. “I do not care in the slightest and if you had taken half a second to reflect on it you would realize that Gilbert has been the kindest he has ever been to us. Tell Auntie and Uncle for all I care no one would ever believe those horrible lies. No one is as gullible and mean as you to believe them even for a second.”

Roderich fell silent after that, tears still streaming down his face. Quite a crowd had gathered by then, and were far too nosy to leave even when Ludwig glared at them.

With a quiet sigh he knelt down and offered Roderich his handkerchief. Second time in a day. He may as well burn the thing it was so contaminated.

“Here,” he said quietly. “Your glasses are smudged.”

Roderich shied away from him, a venomous, calculating look taking hold of the boy’s features.

“I would rather die than take anything from you,” he said, a twinge of real fear in his voice. “Even if no one believes me I know you’re a liar and a deviant I know what I saw!”

Ludwig heard angry footsteps approaching, and assuming they were Gilbert’s he leaned in just a bit more and lowered his voice.

“I’m not asking you to like me, Roderich,” he said quietly. “You can curse me and call me whatever you want, but I could never, ever hurt Gilbert. No more than I could cut off my own leg and continue to walk.”

“I don’t believe you,” Roderich muttered, his dark blue eyes fixing on Ludwig’s face. “I don’t.”

He let out a startled gasp and flinched when Ludwig reached out, but when the man merely plucked his glasses off his face and started to clean them the look was replaced with one of surprise.

“I have been going into Gilbert’s room late at night,” Ludwig said quietly, unsure why he was confirming the boy’s fears by admitting it. “I would do anything he asked of me. Why do you think I’m here? I hate crowds, I hate children and if I have to be perfectly honest you aren’t endearing yourself to me either. But he asked me to, and so here I am. Just like I was that night and any other you saw me.”

He held out Roderich’s glasses, and after a moment the boy cautiously took them and slid them back on his face, saying an automatic, “Thank you.”

A light touch to his shoulder made Ludwig stand up, and he nodded at Gilbert in response to the questioning look he received before leaning down to whisper quietly in Gilbert’s ear, “Your cousin hates me and called me a sodomite. And Alex knows.”

He quickly grabbed Gilbert’s elbow to steady him when the young lord wavered, and the look of utter horror on Gilbert’s face was a reasonable interpretation of the lead weight that was sitting in Ludwig’s stomach. Gilbert reached out to squeeze his arm and then abruptly the panicked look left his face. He squatted down in front of his cousin and stared him down.

“Get. Walking.”

Roderich opened his mouth to speak, but a slight narrowing of Gilbert’s eyes was all it took to make the young boy spring to his feet. Gilbert grabbed hold of his arm and gently pushed Vash towards Ludwig.

“Here, you take this one too. I need to speak with my cousin.”

Ludwig nodded to show he understood and hung back a bit to give Gilbert some space. Eliza took Vash’s hand so he wouldn’t have to and the three started following Gilbert and Roderich.

“…Is Gilbert going to kill Roderich?” Vash finally asked as they neared the exit.

“Gilbert is too kind. Unfortunately,” Eliza muttered, still obviously displeased with her younger cousin. She turned her big green eyes on Ludwig as she said earnestly, “I hope you know I don’t believe a word of what he was saying. Gilbert wouldn’t love you if you were that kind of man, he isn’t that stupid or self-sacrificing. Unfortunately that mostly just means that he’s terribly selfish but I think you already knew that.”

The sincerity of her speech made Ludwig smile slightly but God did he want to be alone…

“Thank you, Eliza, although be careful with that word,” he said quietly. “I don’t think Gilbert would like to hear you using it like that.”

A little frown pulled at her delicate features as they walked towards their waiting taxi, their luggage long since loaded on top. Gilbert had pulled Roderich off to the side and was still lecturing him. Roderich looked terrified, but the hand on his arm kept him from running.

“He seemed perfectly fine using it the other day,” Eliza said slowly, biting her thumbnail. “I don’t know why he wouldn’t be…”

“Eliza don’t do that you’ll get in trouble. And last time your nail bled everywhere and it was gross,” Vash pointed out in his normal even tone. He climbed inside the taxi and Eliza followed, still mumbling to herself.

Ludwig waited outside the taxi, leaning up against it to rest as best he could. Had it really only been that morning that they’d left the manor? It felt like they’d been gone for eons. And they had three more weeks of this.

Ludwig reached into his pocket for his handkerchief, but when he caught sight of the soot stains he quickly shoved it back inside. He blinked sweat out of his eyes, his cap doing little to keep him cool. He could hear the lilt of Gilbert’s voice over the sound of the street traffic, but the words were indistinct. The familiar rise and fall was soothing enough, and a few minutes of relative peace and quiet were enough. He stood up straight and fixed his lapel before talking to the driver, apologizing for the delay. The man was careful to be nothing but courteous, although his words had a sycophantic ring to them that didn’t sit well with Ludwig.

Only a minute later Gilbert dragged Roderich over to the taxi and shoved him inside.

“Remember our agreement,” he said warningly, and Roderich gave a meek little nod and clung to Eliza’s side. To Ludwig’s surprise, she accepted the hold around her arm and even patted Roderich’s shoulder, although she did say, “Stop crying you look like a drowned rat and no one feels sorry for you.”

Gilbert looked incredibly worn down, and it was an honest fight to keep from embracing him, even if just for support. But Ludwig kept his hands where they belonged and a few minutes later they were all piled into the taxi, heading towards the elderly Horschhorn’s residence.

It was an uncomfortable ride. The only noise was the sound of Roderich’s little sniffles and Vash’s occasional commentary on the street scene outside the window. Ludwig sat across from Gilbert, and try as he might he couldn’t take his eyes off of the young lord. It was rare to see him so shaken, and all Ludwig could do was lightly rest his foot atop Gilbert’s. A pathetic form of contact, but anything else would be too obvious.

Gilbert did glance up at the light touch, though, and gave Ludwig a tired smile before mouthing, ‘later.’

Ludwig nodded in response and the rest of the ride he spent wondering what exactly it was Roderich had agreed to.

After an hour ride the taxi finally stopped and they all disembarked. They had come to a stop in front of a row of elegantly decorated town homes. Beautiful flowers wilting in the heat spilled out of the flower boxes adorning each window. Iron wrought gates lined the sidewalk, and small patches of greenery in front of the homes gave the street a charming rural air, despite the lingering smell of soot.

Ludwig helped the driver with the bags and tipped him handsomely for making him wait so long. The taxi trundled back down the street, and Ludwig organized the trunks while Gilbert ushered his cousins up the steps to the front door. Satisfied that everything was in order, Ludwig returned to Gilbert’s side just as the door was opened. In the doorway stood a tall blonde man, his temples slightly gray. He was surprisingly slender for his height. He peered at them over his spectacles and Gilbert offered the man a weak smile.

“Mr. Oxenstierna. Pleasure to see you again.”

The man’s blue eyes fixed on Ludwig for a moment, and Ludwig shifted uncomfortably under the man’s critical gaze. Gilbert immediately spoke up, his words almost slurred with haste.

“This is Lud—Mr. Schmit. My valet. I told Grandmama I was bringing my own this time.”

The man seemed to accept the explanation and he stepped aside to let them in. The three younger cousins immediately dashed inside, Roderich seeming to have forgotten the incident (or was simply choosing to repress it). Gilbert hung back a moment but then quickly scurried inside, moving extra quickly past the man, who Ludwig had to assume was the house’s butler.

Ludwig followed the young lord, nodding politely towards the butler who nodded back and said in a surprisingly low voice, “Do not worry about your things. I will have them taken care of.”

“Thank. Thank you,” Ludwig said weakly, honestly surprised the man could speak at all. He had a sort of giant’s presence to him, and for whatever reason Ludwig had associated that with muteness. The man merely nodded again and headed off towards the back of the house, giving Ludwig time to assess his surroundings. The foyer was a surprisingly modest affair, although on closer inspection the wood trimmings were mahogany and the black and white tile underfoot was marble and what looked like (and probably was) gold leaf. Ludwig followed Gilbert into the main room, which was rather narrow but had an impressive staircase spiraling four floors high or more. A large window at the top and numerous others set into both sides of the stairwell let in a great deal of natural sunlight. Through a door straight ahead Ludwig could see a piano and numerous bookshelves lining the wall of what had to be a grand study. He took an automatic step forward, wanting to inspect the collection, but a hand on his arm stopped him.

“Later,” Gilbert said quietly, his voice barely audible. “And keep your voice down if you can. This whole place echoes like mad.”

Ludwig gave Gilbert a small smile to show he’d heard and then followed the young lord through a door off to the right. It opened into a spacious sitting room with windows looking out onto the street. An elderly woman was seated in a chair by one of the windows and the three younger cousins were already gathered around her, each talking animatedly. She had a look of extreme patience on her face while she listened. Her gray hair was coifed neatly, and her clothes were surprisingly plain although made of rich fabrics. A pair of glasses hung from a gold chain around her neck, the glass perfectly clear. She had a waifish sort of air about her and prominent cheekbones. Her lips were razor thin, and she had an aquiline nose. But her dark eyes were kind as she smiled down at her grandchildren, and when she spoke her voice carried an alarming amount of volume.

“One at a time, children! I can’t hear myself think.”

Ludwig winced and resisted the urge to press his hands over his ears. Gilbert had not been exaggerating when he warned him about the echo. He followed after Gilbert, who was already hugging his grandmother and taking one of the other seats by the window. She glanced up as Ludwig approached and raised an eyebrow at him. She held up a hand and the three cousins immediately fell silent, although none of them looked especially put out about the silent order.

“So. You’re the servant my grandson insisted on bringing,” she said brusquely.

Her tone made Ludwig stand up a bit straighter, and he bowed politely.

“Yes, ma’am—”

“Your ladyship.”

Ludwig bit his tongue.

“…Yes, your ladyship. My name is Lud—”

“And my grandson has insisted on housing you with the family proper rather than in the servant’s quarters,” she continued, pursing her lips.

Ludwig shot Gilbert a pleading look for help, but the young lord was staring pointedly out the window.

“I—I don’t know anything about that, ma—your ladyship. Lady Horschhorn.”

“Good heavens, Christ will have made his second coming before you form a decent thought,” she said, clicking her tongue disapprovingly. “Mr. Schmidt, I am a gracious woman and I am not about to turn down a request from my grandson, no matter how ridiculous, but I will ask that you speak to me appropriately. You may be close to my son’s family, but you are a stranger and a servant to me only. Is that clear?”

“Yes, your ladyship,” Ludwig said immediately. The added insult of her condescending speech was making him want to rebel, especially after the earlier encounter with the group of similarly aged women. He supposed he should have been surprised that she knew his name already, but she honestly didn’t seem the type to let any piece of information go by without committing it to memory. He only wished he knew hers to even the playing field slightly, but all he knew was her title. And even that, he suspected, was dated and inaccurate.

“Very good,” she said with mild approval. “Now stop lurching about like a reanimated corpse and sit down and stay quiet unless there is an apparent need or invitation for you to speak.”

Ludwig’s eyes narrowed slightly but he took a seat in the chair beside Gilbert. The moment he did so the three younger cousins started talking again, filling their grandmother in on their accomplishments and what they were studying. She asked them rather complicated questions – especially about the sciences – and seemed mildly pleased when they were able to answer them. The interrogation stopped after a good quarter hour and she dismissed them with an order to go bother the cook in the kitchens for a reward. The three ran out as though the devil were on their heels, and she turned her attention to Gilbert. The smile fell from her face and she fixed her grandson with a calculating look.

“Anything to report?” she asked. The sharp look in her eye said that she already knew there very much was.

Gilbert nodded and began speaking quietly, at first about his studies but then about the engagement and lastly his fall. The woman’s face turned slightly pale, but otherwise she did not outwardly react. Her eyes slid to focus on Ludwig the moment Gilbert was done speaking.

“Am I to understand you risked your employment to save my grandson’s horse?”

Ludwig wanted to point out that he had helped save Gilbert first, a slightly more important aspect of the story, but instead he merely nodded and said quietly, “The animal is important to him, your ladyship. Once I knew he was in safe hands I thought it best to busy myself being useful and not get in the doctor’s way.”

“At least you seem to have a firm understanding of your place,” she said, folding her hands in her lap. Next to Ludwig, Gilbert bristled slightly.

“Grandmama, he may be a former farmhand but Mr. Schmidt is one of our most valuable employees,” he said, his voice clipped. “Next to Kirkland and Peeters the manor would not be able to function without him.”

“Is that the reason for you being besotted enough to insist on taking him with you wherever you go?” she asked mildly, raising an eyebrow at her grandson.

Gilbert flushed with embarrassment but pressed on.

“One of them, yes, although I wouldn’t be so crass as to use the word besotted. It isn’t so strange for lords to travel with their valets.”

“Not for lords, no. Once they are married and actually are. Lords.”

Every word was spoken so pointedly even Ludwig felt an odd, uncomfortable pressure. Gilbert fell silent after that, a guilty look flitting across his face before it was hidden.

“He’s important to me, Grandmama,” he finally muttered, subdued. “Can we please just leave the issue at that.”

The woman remained quiet for some time longer.

“I had a servant girl of whom I was immensely fond,” she said absently, as though discussing the weather. “I insisted on taking her everywhere with me as well, but these things garner too many questions, Gilbert. If you did not have your engagement to Elizaveta as a shield I cannot help but think that my son and his wife would find your attachment a bit odd.”

“If we could save the interrogation and tactical guesswork for another time I would appreciate it,” Gilbert said through gritted teeth, his shoulders shaking. “I have already had to defend myself to one relative today. I had hoped that you would be more supportive and less accusatory. I—you received my letters, I know you understand that –”

“As I said, these things garner questions,” she calmly interrupted, seemingly unfazed by her grandson’s obvious distress. “I was happy when you chose to confide in me, less so about the subject matter. If you do not wish to be engaged to Elizaveta then all you must do is call it off. My son is not a barbarian who will twist your arm and drag you to a church. But these frivolities will have to end should you choose to do so. You cannot be a boy forever, Gilbert, and that youthful innocence will not guard you for much longer.” Her eyes flicked to the side again to stare at Ludwig, who was remaining, as ordered, completely silent.

“And I would say his has expired a very long time ago.”

“Grandmama please!” Gilbert suddenly burst out, a desperate expression taking hold of him. He cast an apologetic look at Ludwig before turning back to his grandmother. “I told you I would renounce everything,” he said quietly. “I don’t care about my name or the title or—”

“You do not live in a world consisting only of two people, Gilbert,” she said sharply, sitting up a bit straighter in her chair. “Think of what pain it would cause your father and mother if they ever heard you speak like that. Eaglewood must have a Horschhorn heir or it will fall to my sister and her line of miscreants. Elizaveta cannot inherit on her own. Her position is too weak in the family tree. If her brother had survived then you would be free of the burden of your lineage but life hands us unexpected challenges. I fully expect you to rise to them.”

Gilbert opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He remained silent, staring fixedly at the wooden floor.

His grandmother let out a quiet sigh.

“And do you have anything to add, Mr. Schmidt?”

Ludwig managed to wrench his gaze away from Gilbert, a surprised look on his face.

“Me, your ladyship?”

“Unless there is another Schmidt in the room I am unaware of, yes. You,” she said dryly.

Ludwig hesitated, not wanting to speak too much out of turn. His silence had not been hard to maintain. He’d been stunned that Gilbert had apparently been writing his grandmother in enough detail that she seemed to have a grasp of the situation. After what had happened with Roderich it was a nasty shock, and Ludwig could not help but feel angry and betrayed that Gilbert had kept this piece of information from him. But his enthusiasm for London now made sense. To be allowed inside a house that had even a slight understanding of their situation sounded a huge relief, but Ludwig had little faith things would work out in their favor.

He was only aware of how long he’d been quiet when Lady Horschhorn spoke up again.

“I sincerely hope he is not damaged in any way, Gilbert. I would hate to think you were taking advantage of him.”

“That isn’t funny, Grandmama,” Gilbert muttered, still staring at the floor.

“I heartily agree.”

“I’m not—I’m not damaged, ma’am. Your grace. Ladyship,” Ludwig said a bit sharply, the titles making him want to retch he couldn’t decide which he hated most. “We have had a very long day and no small amount of unpleasantness already and quite honestly all I would like to do is go take a nap and be rid of the constant scheming that seems to surround me nowadays.”

The woman looked amused.

“You certainly do have conviction. Rash and misplaced though it may be.”

Ludwig felt some of the wind go out of his sails as his words caught up to him, and he let out a very small breath.

“Am I to take that as a compliment, your ladyship?” he asked quietly.

“If it would please you, then yes. By all means. A compliment.”

She stood and gestured for them to do the same. Ludwig slowly pushed to his feet, and Gilbert followed suit, although with a good deal of reluctance.

“You have been given the last bedroom on the third floor,” she said, fixing her grandson with an even stare. “And I hope I do not need to remind you that the walls in this house are paper thing on the upper levels. Should you need to discuss matters that require discretion, the small room on the library balcony might serve your purposes.”

“Yes, Grandmama,” Gilbert said softly, not meeting her gaze. “And where is Mr. Schmidt to sleep?”

“Wherever his trunk shows up,” Lady Horschhorn said dryly. “I recommend starting your search on the fourth floor.”

Gilbert visibly wilted, but he nodded and said another soft, “Yes, Grandmama. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, dear.” She glanced at Ludwig. “Do try and enjoy your stay, Mr. Schmidt. London has much to offer outside the walls of my home, and I would be remiss if I did not give you leave to explore them with my grandchildren when they requested.”

“Thank you, your ladyship,” Ludwig said quietly, already feeling wearier at the thought of traversing four flights of steep steps.

Gilbert turned to leave and, after bowing again to Lady Horschhorn, Ludwig followed. They walked up the flights of stairs in silence, Gilbert not speaking until they had reached the fourth floor landing.

“This is where most of the servants sleep,” he said quietly, heading down the hall to the farthest room. “Any visiting help usually has this room, so I imagine she has put you in here.”

Ludwig tugged on his tie to loosen it, the stuffy, hot air making his head swim.

“Pleasant climate control,” he muttered, and Gilbert shot him a tired smile.

“Terrible, isn’t it?” he said, pushing open the door. “And you can’t even come to visit me now without little Roderich shitting himself over – your trunk’s not here.”

Ludwig furrowed his brow.

“…Roderich is shitting himself over my luggage?”

“Wha—no you idiot your trunk isn’t here.”

Gilbert headed into the small room, but it didn’t take a thorough search to realize the trunk was nowhere to be found in the relatively cramped room. Gilbert scratched his head and then wordlessly headed out into the hall again, Ludwig trailing after him like a mystified shadow.

They checked every room on the fourth floor, but Ludwig’s trunk was absent from all of them. When Gilbert took the stairs down to the third floor landing, Ludwig noted the lighter spring to his step and the barely concealed hopeful smile on his face.

This time Gilbert didn’t bother with all the doors. He headed straight for the one on the far left of the hallway, and when he pushed open the door the look of happiness that overtook him spoke enough that words were not needed.

He glanced up at Ludwig who returned the smile as best he could and let himself be pulled into the room. He already knew what he would find when he entered. The normal plush trappings and bedding and canopy, and two trunks lined up against the wall.

The door shut behind them and Gilbert quickly locked it. The audible confirmation of solitude made Ludwig finally relax enough to breathe properly. He scrubbed at his face and was about to lie down on the carpet and nap there when Gilbert tugged him towards the bed. After removing his shoes and coat and tossing them aside Ludwig lay down and closed his eyes. Gilbert’s fingers immediately buried in his hair and the smaller man pulled himself close.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper and shaking with weak apology. “At first it was just to tell her about the engagement and ask for her help but she’s so unbelievably crafty and before I realized where exactly the questions she was asking were leading me it was too late and I’d hinted at far too much. Bringing you along I think… didn’t help.”

Ludwig let out a heavy sigh and opened his eyes. Gilbert looked mildly terrified and his red eyes were crossed as they focused on Ludwig.

“…I really am sorry,” he said again, and Ludwig rested a finger against his lips.

“Later,” he said quietly, closing his eyes and tugging Gilbert close. “Everything is unraveling too fast and I’m dreading what exactly that means for us. But right now there is a ringing in my head and my lungs feel like they’ve turned black already and I can’t. Do this right now.”

“…Very well,” said Gilbert. He sounded relieved enough that it made Ludwig snort quietly and open his eyes once more.

“I’m not especially pleased with you, but you still know. I hope.”

Gilbert nodded, a hint of his normal smile returning as he leaned up to kiss Ludwig.

“You love me.”

“Stupidly, idiotically, and stupidly I do,” Ludwig mumbled, returning the kiss as best he could even as he started to drift off. “I know I said it twice, just let it go.”

Gilbert laughed quietly and rested his hand against Ludwig’s side. He whispered something soft and guarded, but Ludwig was already asleep by the time the last word left his lips.


	20. (A)ssent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it’s been forever since I updated. I am sorry. This chapter is extra long (but still just as terrible!) to make up for it.
> 
> this chapter is probably going to offend everyone’s sensibilities as consumers of literature. or fanfiction. or just as human beings.
> 
> there’s a reason i don’t do porn and this is it. i don’t know what I’m doing.
> 
> I AM SO SICK OF WRITING THIS CHAPTER I AM ONLY PUBLISHING IT BECAUSE I WANT THE PAIN TO STOP.

“Gilbert I am fairly sure those two animals were not meant to interact like that.”

Gilbert glanced up from behind the glass display, an impish grin on his face. His tie was slightly undone, and the ever increasing tendency Ludwig had to take advantage of Gilbert’s youthful charm and affected innocence made him want to reach out and tug the damn thing off completely.

Gilbert laughed and tilted his head to the side as he peered at Ludwig from the far aisle. “Oh? And have you ever come across a…” He leaned down to check the bronze plaque again. “A kinkajou before? Potos flavus. What on earth gives you license to make such bald assumptions about its mating habits?”  
Ludwig gave Gilbert a bland look before turning around to walk down another aisle. He heard Gilbert let out a quiet noise of protest that echoed throughout the museum. Several patrons glanced their way before returning to their objects of interest. Their indifference to his and Gilbert’s presence was a gift. It was only their second day in London but the joy of anonymity was quickly going to Ludwig’s head. He was mildly concerned that he would not be able to curb it before their return. Oddly enough Gilbert didn’t seem to be suffering from the same ailment. Every time Ludwig tried to take his hand or reached out to fix a lock of his hair Gilbert would dance out of reach and carry on as though nothing had happened. It was one of the reasons Gilbert was on the other side of the glass case. A little glance from Ludwig was apparently all it had taken to make him dart off behind an elk and remain on the other side of the aisle, although he continued to tease Ludwig through the glass.

Ludwig paused to glance up at the glass dome that stretched over the great hall. The colossal room was a maze of aisles crafted out of glass displays that stretched up and up for several stories, while mahogany and oak balconies lining the walls gave visitors a decent view of some of the loftier dioramas. Animals from the world over rested perched upon leafed branches or lay coiled and hunched with faint traces of dried blood still clinging to their muzzles. Beaked and fanged mummies lovingly imbued with the illusion of life through glass eyes and hidden stitches.

Ludwig stopped in front of a tiger, studying its false intelligent eyes. It had been years since he’d seen one in person. An alive one. Part of the reason Gilbert had insisted they go was so Ludwig could point out the animals he’d come across during his service. Ludwig had gently reminded Gilbert that he really had mostly only seen Indian people and that he highly doubted (and hoped) none would be on display there, but still Gilbert had insisted.

After a short taxi cab ride they had arrived, and Ludwig had been amused when Gilbert had balked at the entrance. The building alone with its limestone columns and oak floors gave Ludwig pause too, at first – as did the outfit Gilbert had insisted he wear (his cap was still hidden somewhere in Gilbert’s grandmother’s house, forbidden to see the light of day while they were in finer company) – but he walked up to the window and bought the tickets anyway. It wasn’t his money, after all. He could afford to be a little bold with it.

But Gilbert had shied away from actually entering the grand display room. He’d peered around the doors at the first case which held a lion, fangs bared in a roar so startlingly convincing Ludwig felt the floorboards quiver slightly under his polished shoes. But when Ludwig saw the slight shoulders trembling with a horrid mix of fear and curiosity, he had gently rested his hand against the small of Gilbert’s back and ushered him forward. And for the first time during their stay Gilbert had allowed the touch. The look of open gratitude on the young lord’s face was enough to embolden Ludwig to keep his hand where it was for several minutes and to talk to Gilbert in the soft voice he normally reserved for when they were alone. But soon enough Gilbert lost his fear and grew bold and inquisitive enough to run ahead. It took all Ludwig had just to keep up with him.

He felt a light tapping on the nape of his neck and he turned around to find Gilbert smiling up at him.

“I’m assuming from the contemplative look on your face that you have any number of these pelts squirreled away somewhere, each with a daring story of unencumbered bravery behind it.”

Ludwig snorted quietly and shook his head, a wry smile on his own face.

“Sadly in the battle of tiger versus Ludwig I never once came out the victor,” he said, his hands in his pockets to keep himself from reaching out to fix Gilbert’s unruly hair. “I came across a beast like this three times during the course of my stay. Twice at a distance.”

Gilbert’s eyes shone and he leaned in slightly.

“And the third?” he asked, a note of eagerness in his voice.

Ludwig forced his expression to harden and shook his head.

“You would be better off not knowing. The nightmares you already suffer from would pale in comparison.”

Gilbert’s brows drew close together in annoyance and he let out a pitiful whine, tugging on Ludwig’s sleeve.

“You’re terrible! You always do this – tease me with stories of your grandiose exploits and then allow them to shatter on the ground like Eliza does fine china.”

Ludwig laughed and carefully extracted Gilbert’s fingers from his coat sleeve.

“And you enjoy hyperbole far too much for your own good,” he teased, poking the tip of Gilbert’s pointy nose with his finger.

Gilbert scowled and let out an indignant sniff before turning away and padding down another aisle alone, obviously in a bit of a sulk. Ludwig let him go. The lord threw little tantrums once every ten minutes. It didn’t do any good to indulge every one of them, especially when they weren’t entirely serious.

He wandered through the museum by himself, stopping every so often to jot down the name of an interesting animal in the small notebook he carried with him. Soft footfalls sounded behind him but he knew better than to turn around. It was hardly the first time Gilbert had trailed after him while pretending to be wholly disinterested in what he was doing.

It was strange, Ludwig mused to himself as he stared at a colorful bird of paradise. It had been scarcely more than half a year that he’d been in the Horschhorn’s employ and already he knew the mannerisms of all the children – not just Gilbert’s. That morning he’d known before Eliza had even opened her mouth that she was angry with Vash, and the way the blonde boy was carrying himself let Ludwig know that it was entirely the churlish boy’s fault. At breakfast the inevitable explosion of childish temperament had been impetus the second for his and Gilbert’s outing. Gilbert had refused to call it a ‘date,’ which was apparently what all the boys his age were insisting on calling romantic outings (and had been for some time, if Eliza’s information was anything to go by). But when Ludwig had let the word slip while they’d been getting dressed Gilbert’s face had turned red and he’d excused himself politely to go get some air on the balcony.

Ludwig had still heard his weak, nervous wheezing even through the glass. It was a true kindness of his that he was enough in love not to call Gilbert out on it.

He stopped again in front of the smallest deer he’d ever seen and crouched down to get a better look at it. The wide eyes and delicate hooves were incredibly charming, and despite the fact that he had no artistic talent whatsoever he still made a valiant attempt to sketch the thing in his notebook. From over his shoulder there came a delicate snort, and a moment later the pencil was plucked from his hand and Gilbert muttered under his breath, “I can’t take you anywhere, farmhand. The pencil is about to snap in your maladroit grip you’re torturing it so fervently.”

The young lord crouched down next to him, ignoring the polite, curious stares of the other visitors as they passed. Ludwig leaned slightly against Gilbert to watch him draw, laughing quietly when the boy continued to tip to the side until he was almost leaning against another display. Red eyes glanced his way and Gilbert said in a mildly irate voice, “Do you mind keeping your bulk off of me whilst I am trying to masterpiece? It’s difficult to draw a steady line with you crushing my ulna as you are.”

“Terribly sorry,” Ludwig murmured, his hand subtly brushing Gilbert’s side as he righted himself. “I forgot in my curiosity how dear your ulna is to me.”

“Oh, Ludwig, enough with the sentimentalities. At least wait until we have an unwilling audience to shock,” Gilbert muttered, his ears red as he hunched over the drawing. Ludwig rolled his eyes slightly and stood guard, ensuring that Gilbert was given enough room to remain crouched on the floor without being disturbed. The museum was reasonably crowded for a weekday – a concept Ludwig was still struggling to adjust to – but so far the guards and patrons alike had treated them with distant reverence. The difference a well tailored suit and arriving in an expensive town car could make. It boggled the mind.

Ludwig caught a glimpse of a family on the other side of the room, a father, mother, and three children around Eliza’s age. They were dressed in what must have been their best clothes, although the hems on the women’s dresses were slightly dusty and the men’s shoes had seen better days. They were talking excitedly amongst themselves, the youngest girl perched on her father’s shoulders. Ludwig felt a pang of something resembling guilt as he watched them out of the corner of his eye. The tickets to the museum were reasonably priced, but for a family of that size and means it must have been a bit of a sacrifice. And to come on a work day meant that special time had been set aside and other duties pushed to the back of the mind. But the mother and father showed no trace of remorse on their faces as they ushered their children about, smiling every time an animal elicited a laugh or a gasp of shock from one of them.

So preoccupied was he with studying the little family that Ludwig didn’t notice that Gilbert was no longer drawing but was standing next to him, a slightly sad look on his face.

“Something on your mind, farmhand?”

“Hm?” Ludwig glanced down at Gilbert, raising an eyebrow when he caught sight of the poorly masked frown playing about Gilbert’s lips.

“Not especially,” he said quietly, gesturing towards the family. “Just… contemplating.”

“Contemplating. Very revealing, thank you for that,” Gilbert muttered, turning on his heel and walking down the aisle. Ludwig let out a little sigh and hurried to catch up with him.

“It isn’t what you’re thinking, Gilbert, I promise,” he said quietly.

“And a mind reader too. Funny, a few weeks ago you were adamant that you lacked powers of that sort.”

Ludwig let out a slow breath to keep from becoming too irritable. Gilbert’s insecurities were many and varied and often manifested in the most churlish of ways.

“Fine. Then you will have to be a bit more forthcoming with your own thoughts if you expect the same of me,” he finally said.

Gilbert audibly ground his teeth, his long fingers tapping against the cover of the notebook in an agitated staccato. They walked in silence for a long time, Gilbert making a beeline for the stairs. He climbed up to the third floor balcony, finally stopping when they were out of earshot of all but perhaps the lone museum guard in their section. The man’s wrinkled visage and the stubby finger he inserted in his ear at random intervals hinted towards a serendipitous deafness.

Gilbert rested his forearms on the balcony railing, staring down at the museum floor where patrons swarmed like giant cockroaches scurrying through the maze of glass. Ludwig copied him, standing close enough that their shoulders would touch when they happened to inhale at the same time. Light from the glass dome that covered the entire museum floor washed out Gilbert’s pale features, making them difficult to read, but the slight catching of his breath was enough warning for Ludwig that the boy was about to speak.

“It – I dislike. Not being able to give you certain things.” Gilbert’s voice was halting and surly as he spoke. “Regardless of whether or not you want them, the option… it would be nice to have, I’d imagine.”

“I don’t want children, Gilbert,” Ludwig said immediately, his tone firm. “I never have. There’s too many… shadows in my life. I suppose you could call them. Save for the earl my experience with fathers has trended towards the negative and I find myself exhibiting similar undesirable traits. I have a temper, I can barely put up with your more childish mannerisms at times. I would be a terrible –”

“Oh you would not,” Gilbert said in clear exasperation, lightly flicking Ludwig’s hand. “You would be a wonderful father and any brat would be lucky to have you in their life in that capacity. But that… wasn’t all I was referring to. Unfortunately for you.”

The young lord fell silent again, and Ludwig did as well, listening to the muffed voices that drifted up from the floors below.

“We never did have that conversation,” Ludwig said finally, breaking the quiet. “About you telling your grandmother.” His lips curled up in a small smile and he bumped his shoulder against Gilbert’s. “I suspect you may be keeping me busy in the hopes that I would forget.”

“And I of course overlooked the fact that your time in India no doubt gave you the memory of an elephant,” Gilbert grumbled, propping his chin in his hand.

Ludwig laughed quietly because it was what Gilbert had wanted him to do, but when he spoke it was with every ounce of earnestness he could muster.

“You do understand why I was mad – am still to some slight extent. I hope.”

Gilbert flinched and ducked his head slightly but said nothing.

Ludwig sighed and gently tugged Gilbert away from the banister and off into a corner. It was dark and there were several empty display cases around that formed a semi-private area. After checking one last time over his shoulder Ludwig leaned down to press a soft kiss to Gilbert’s cheek, wanting to see him smile. He pulled away in slight shock when Gilbert flinched and turned his head away. The look on the young lord’s face was not one of anger but rather something akin to fear.

Ludwig felt his heart break slightly and he reached out to rest his hand on Gilbert’s shoulder but he was quickly pushed away again. He made a frustrated noise.

“Gilbert, there’s no one around –”

“I’m scared, Ludwig,” Gilbert muttered, terse. “Leave me be.”

Ludwig blinked in surprise and took another step back, doing his best to hide his hurt.

“You know I wouldn’t risk it if I thought there were even the slightest chance anyone of import would see,” he finally said, shoving his hands in his pockets again. “And I thought… one of the reasons you wanted to make this trip was to –”

“You’ve conditioned me too well,” Gilbert muttered, leaning against the wall and rubbing a hand over his face. “At the manor – I know the patterns and timing of the staff and still we were seen. By Roderich of all people. And the staff.” He glanced up as Ludwig made a quiet noise, and there was a bitter smile on his face.

“Yes, I know,” he quietly continued. “Eliza told me. And then when you became so angry over the incident with my grandmother… I finally understood why. I realized the full extent of what I would have to pay if we were ever caught by anyone whose opinion were higher than that of a twelve year old boy’s or a servant’s. And I know I told you that London would be a chance for us to let down our guard but now that my back is to the wall – I can see you resisting the urge to make some sort of pun given my current positioning and I would request that you heed that voice telling you to resist – I find myself lacking the very courage I used to think I possessed in spades. I am entirely used to people staring at me but it was always for things I could not help. But there is no excuse for this if we’re caught. None that anyone will buy and I’ve never been without an easy out before.”

Ludwig remained quiet and let Gilbert speak his fill, trying not to feel too disheartened. Any desire he’d had left to confront Gilbert about the stupidity of his correspondence with his grandmother left him in that instant. It was difficult to be truly angry with someone when they were suffering so obviously, even more so when they divulged their fear without reservation. In that moment, despite his disappointment, Ludwig felt an enormous sense of gratitude for the trust Gilbert had in him that several months ago had been completely absent.

“Then what can I do but respect that,” he said softly, his voice colored with disenchantment. “I cannot fault you for something I helped foster. I never would have expected myself to become so reliant upon physical affection to the point where I would jeopardize our anonymity and make you feel uncomfortable by virtue of my presence alone.”

“I am hardly ‘uncomfortable,’ farmhand,” Gilbert said indignantly. “You make me sound like a blushing flower, but it… it’s rather the… opposite. Problem. As of late.” He cleared his throat and glanced up at the ceiling as though it were the most fascinating object on Earth. “And as you have shared my bed again these past two nights I was operating under the assumption that you were simply being too polite to mention certain… nightly trends.”

Ludwig gave Gilbert a blank stare.

“…Could you perhaps un-cipher that for me.”

Gilbert’s cheeks turned bright red and he let out a little groan and pressed a hand against his face.

“It… I am scared, yes, that much is unfortunately true,” he muttered. “But even when we’re alone it’s becoming… increasingly difficult to…” He gestured vaguely around his hips, and Ludwig’s eyes widened in slight understanding.

“Oh.”

His ears turned red.

“…Oh.”

“Yes.” Gilbert shifted and cleared his throat. “As pathetic and virginly as it might be, your bandying about the little ‘l’ word has made my nethers a bit too tingly on occasion and God in heaven I hate that I used any of those words but setting aside lexiconical choices it’s made me feel horribly guilty. I’m taking physical pleasure from your pure affections and it’s twisted everything and made it so difficult. No matter how… tingly. Things are.”

“The words don’t paint a very manly picture, that’s… true,” Ludwig mumbled, taking a deep breath to clear his thoughts before they ran away in an inappropriate direction.

“They don’t, but that’s why I’ve been cutting certain affections short,” Gilbert said, rubbing the back of his neck. “My mother… before we left she gave me a little talk about my marital duties and there may have been illustrations and it was the most humiliating half hour of my life. I’m only human, of course I’ve indulged in certain unseemly practices but they were always solo pieces so to speak and I always thought myself too skeletal despite the overall pleasantness of my features to ever be invited to perform a duet and quite suddenly I realized that that’s perhaps what we’ve been practicing towards all along. But they don’t make diagrams and illustrations no matter how humiliating for duets involving two male hands and… bits. The pieces. The – that. Whole. Area.”

Gilbert’s face was scarlet by the time he was done and Ludwig was sure he wasn’t fairing much better. He cleared his throat several times, trying to think about how exactly to respond to that. Gilbert was blatantly avoiding looking directly at him and was hugging the notebook against his chest like a lifeline. And Ludwig very much wished there were someone he could destroy for making Gilbert feel so guilty and upset for something he hadn’t even done yet. They both considered the other too good for something so carnal, and it was so strange to Ludwig that only a few months ago he he’d been convinced that with just a few soft whispers from Gilbert in his ear his moral compass would be smashed to cogs and magnets and he would fall. And over time the serpent’s band had shifted and wrapped around Gilbert’s throat instead with every affection, every caress every word every longing glance Ludwig had forced upon him. Now the worm was rooted so deep within Gilbert Ludwig dreaded to think of how much damage had already been done. How even if it were removed the poison would linger. Twisting Gilbert even more over the years when he had so many left ahead of him.

And even then Ludwig couldn’t be sure if the voice whispering in his ear was laced with ambrosia or brimstone or if he wanted so badly to believe that the guilt they felt, that the serpent was an arbitrary imposition and nothing more, born from too many heated sermons and other ignorant human dogma.

He glanced behind them once more. The guard had fallen asleep and was softly snoring in his chair. Gilbert’s voice bubbled up again through the awkward haze, feigning mirth and lightheartedness when Ludwig could hear the humiliation in every word.

“It’s fine, though,” the young lord said. “When we’re alone like this you can do what we promised. I really should get over my paranoia. It’s entirely ridiculous and as for that other stumbling block we can continue to ignore it as we have been. It shouldn’t be too hard.”

Ludwig tried to catch Gilbert’s eyes but the young lord was staring adamantly over his shoulder. Ludwig made a frustrated noise and finally crouched down, startling Gilbert into actually looking at him. The look on his face must have been slightly crazed for Gilbert’s eyes were wary as he said a nervous, “Ludwig?”

“I don’t care if I stumble,” he said quietly, taking Gilbert’s slim hand in his own. His thumb brushed over the slight calluses there, left from too many hours spent holding a pen and writing secret stories and poems he thought Ludwig didn’t know about. “I can’t survive with this much guilt any longer. Roderich was so vile when he spat out our secret back at me but I wasn’t afraid or ashamed that I’d become little more than a monster to him. What terrified me was the thought of losing you because of someone so petty and small when I would much rather the world just be us.” He rested his forehead against Gilbert’s hand, feeling a good deal younger than he was as he spoke.

“All you ever need to do is say you want me and all of me is yours,” he said softly. “And I promise it would be so much more than just a perverse illustration. Although I cannot guarantee I won’t make an idiot out of myself. In fact I can pretty much guarantee the opposite will be true, if ever it does happen.”

He raised his eyes and caught Gilbert’s own, the red irises tinged with apprehension and a guileless hope.

“But it is enough just to be allowed to love you,” he said, kissing Gilbert’s palm before reluctantly letting go. “And it’s enough to simply stand here with you. As your valet or your friend.” His lips quirked up in a slightly self-deprecating smile. “As your farmhand, even.”

Gilbert looked stunned and could only nod weakly before he cleared his throat and took a step away from the wall.

“I will… I will take that offer to heart,” he said, dusting invisible flecks of dirt off of his jacket. “God knows that if I keep an answer from you for too long you may start composing sonnets and I don’t think my refined sensibilities would be able to withstand such an onslaught of jumbled prose.”

“Charming as always,” Ludwig said, his deadpan voice lacking any real complaint. He moved back towards the balcony and after a few moments heard Gilbert follow him, the young lord’s footfalls feather light against the wooden floor. Ludwig felt an odd lightness to his own steps, the burden of what he’d carried for months lessened considerably. Perhaps it had been Roderich’s accusation that had flipped the switch inside his head. The shame he’d felt from being caught stemmed from the duplicity of hiding the actions, not the actions themselves. Of having to lie and sneak around like a thief. It was why he’d wanted to take Gilbert’s hand while they’d been walking, why he wanted to have the young man hang off his arm and kiss his cheek and be close. It was stupid and foolhardy and he had in no way convinced himself that passersby or even Gilbert’s own servants and family would let the transgression go without comment or punishment. But he had accepted it for himself.

They reached the second landing and Ludwig slid his hands into his pockets again, toying with his handkerchief and other neatly folded odds and ends. He took the first step onto the ground floor and nearly tripped over himself as a slim arm linked with his. Gilbert’s hand was warm against him as they walked, the young lord’s body brushing him against him with every step they took. He raised a questioning eyebrow at Gilbert and the younger man smiled up at him, although his bottom lip trembled slightly as he spoke.

“It isn’t as though they’ll be able to tell,” he said confidently, letting out a little sniff as he glanced the other way. “Honestly I don’t know what came over me before.” He held out the notebook towards Ludwig. “I’m tired of lugging your things around, farmhand. It’s incredibly selfish of you to not even offer to take it back.”

“My apologies,” Ludwig said quietly, his heart in his throat again as Gilbert moved closer. He could feel several curious eyes on them but was surprised at how quickly they were dismissed. He tucked the notebook into his pocket and Gilbert let out a quiet whine.

“You complete ingrate. Aren’t you even going to look at what I’ve drawn for you?”

Ludwig frowned slightly but pulled the notebook out again, opening it with his free hand. He reached the page with the drawing of the deer and a little smile crept over his face. The animal had been rendered in loving detail, down to the glass-eyed look on its face. Ludwig gave Gilbert a fond smile and a quiet ‘thank you,’ and the young man puffed up his chest.

“I’m sure you had no idea that drawing is one of my many skills,” he said, tightening his grip on Ludwig’s arm as they leisurely made their way outside again.

“As always you continue to surprise me. And this time I’m lucky enough that it turned out to be a good surprise.”

Gilbert made an indignant noise and tugged on Ludwig’s arm. “You beast. All of my surprises are lovely.” He waved his free hand to dismiss the conversation and continued walking back towards his grandmother’s house.

“I’m sure I told you that my grandmother has offered us her box seats at the concert hall tonight.”

“I am sure I would have remembered if you had.”

“Nonsense, you were probably too busy admiring my aristocratic features and plotting your latest seduction to listen to me properly,” Gilbert said airily. “And in the highly unlikely event that I did in fact forget to tell you I am telling you now. We are attending a concert tonight and you will be going as my guest rather than my valet, so I expect you to be on your best behavior. There will be a small reception with all sorts of foods that you have never had the privilege of tasting before and I’m sure you will want to gorge yourself silly as peasant stock always does when confronted with a smorgasbord so you will have to forgive me if I keep a hold of your hand the entire evening to ensure you do not go off the rails and embarrass me in front of whatever royalty or upper-crust-ness is present.”

It took all Ludwig had not to smile like a complete fool. He nodded and managed somehow to keep his wits about him as they walked, although at one point he did nearly step out in front of oncoming traffic he was in so much of a daze and Gilbert scolded him the rest of the walk back to his grandmother’s.

The house was thankfully quiet when they arrived, Oxenstierna the only presence that made itself known. He took their coats and Gilbert beat a hasty retreat upstairs, claiming a headache and needing time to rest. Ludwig found the young lord’s fear of the butler to be more amusing than anything, but he was in mild need of recovery time as well and so didn’t take advantage of the opportunity to follow Gilbert and gently needle him about it. He headed instead into the library and was surprised when Oxenstierna followed him. He raised an eyebrow at the other man, slightly on edge.

“May I help you?”

The quiet butler shut the door and gestured for Ludwig to take a seat in one of the chairs around the fireplace. After some consideration Ludwig did so, the butler following suit. The two sat in silence for some time, and just as Ludwig was about to lose his temper the other man spoke.

“Her ladyship informed me of the nature of your relationship with Lord Gilbert.”

Ludwig felt his blood run cold and he silently cursed the woman. He should have known.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to be a little more specific, Mr. Oxenstierna,” he said as politely as he could, but his voice carried an undertone of warning that didn’t seem to faze the butler in the slightest. The man took off his glasses and pulled out a handkerchief to clean them.

“I believe she told me because we share a similar bent,” he said, his deep voice oddly muddy as he spoke. It made understanding him rather difficult and Ludwig had to take a moment to make sure he’d heard correctly. When he did he felt his cheeks turn red, but he refused to be flustered by the admittedly intimidating butler or the sudden revelation.

“And you invited me into an unoccupied room to congratulate me?” he asked, sitting back in his char. Oxenstierna gave him a look that informed him he was not impressed with the weak show of indifference, but he did not speak again until his glasses were cleaned and perched upon his nose once more.

“I invited you here. To tell you that I knew. That is all.” The man folded his hands in his lap and stared at the fireplace. “And to let you know that her ladyship and I will be keeping your secret. No matter the outcome. As a courtesy.”

“What sort of a courtesy?” Ludwig asked, irritation bubbling up again. “If this is an attempt to blackmail us you’re going about it a rather poor way –”

“As a courtesy. That you might avoid what befell us,” Oxenstierna said calmly, meeting Ludwig’s gaze. “The two of you are not as special as you imagine yourselves to be. On the contrary. It simply is not something that is discussed. Neither here nor where I am from.”

Ludwig clicked his tongue in mild annoyance and sat back, feeling unnerved from the man’s even stare. It was enough to make him feel slightly vicious and before he could think to censor himself he opened his mouth again.

“Who was he?”

The slight tensing of the man’s shoulders was enough that no answer was needed. Ludwig fell silent, his fingers lacing together as he did his best to quell his irritation and think. Here was a man who might be able to help answer certain unsavory questions that he had no hope of finding answers to elsewhere outside of some depraved harbor. And he doubted the men there would clean up their language enough for any information to be even remotely useful. But to suddenly bridge a topic of that nature without any sort of preamble was a bit much, even for someone as blunt as Ludwig could be.

He finally raised his head to find Oxenstierna staring at him with a pensive look on his long face, but when he raised an eyebrow the expression left the man and his eyes grew blank once more. The butler stood and gestured for Ludwig to do the same.

“I am afraid you will have to borrow one of my suits. For tonight,” he said. “Nothing you have brought is. Sufficient.”

“For toni—oh.” The concert.

Ludwig let out a tired sigh. “Very well. It’s hardly the first time I’ve had to borrow clothes.”

The butler nodded and headed upstairs towards the servant’s rooms on the top floor. His room, as expected, was orderly to an almost uncomfortable degree, even for Ludwig. The furniture was plain and harsh in all its angles – the complete opposite of the Rococo finery that adorned the rest of the house. Oxenstierna remained silent as he got out the pieces of the tux, laying them atop the bed. Ludwig stood awkwardly off to the side, uncertain as to how to approach the unapproachable man when Oxenstierna suddenly spoke again.

“Are you happy. Being with whom you are.”

Ludwig scowled.

“I hardly think that’s any of your business.”

Blue eyes scrutinized him from behind glasses before Oxenstierna said, “Fair enough,” and continued to work. The tux was ironed and Ludwig snapped at the butler to leave him be when he tried to help dress him. That must have finally touched a nerve because Oxenstierna left Ludwig to his own devices after that. Ludwig saw no more of him and got dressed in silence.

He struggled with the cumber… thing. Band. He never could remember the words for all the unnecessary accoutrements that went into formal wear. He’d only had to help Gilbert into a tux once, thank the Lord, and Kirkland had helped him a good deal.

Ludwig took a break from wrestling with his bowtie and sat down on the bed, debating whether or not he should track down the butler and at least pretend to apologize. He highly doubted the man had been being nosy. On reflection there was a sadness in his voice that his monotone hid well and Ludwig knew that there was a very good chance he could end up with that same distant voice some day. He wondered whom exactly Oxenstierna had left and why. Scandal, perhaps. Death. Death would almost be easier to cope with in some ways. At least there was a finality to it. Rumors were impossible to destroy completely.

Just as guilt was beginning to persuade Ludwig to go find the butler there came a knock on the door and Gilbert’s voice sounded out.

“M… Mr. Oxenstierna? Are you there?”

Ludwig bit his lip to keep from smiling at the nervous hitch in Gilbert’s voice. He answered the door, laughing when Gilbert jumped back several feet. The young lord flushed with embarrassment and looked ready to reprimand Ludwig for laughing but the annoyed look quickly fell away as he stared openly at him. Gilbert’s gaze was enough to make Ludwig feel slightly self conscious and he took a step backwards to let Gilbert inside, mumbling as he did so, “The cumbers have an intense dislike of me, I’m sure of it.”

That seemed to snap Gilbert out of his daze. “The what?” he asked, mystified. When he spotted the fabric on the bed he immediately moved to help Ludwig.

“It’s because you’re always dressing me instead of yourself,” he said in amusement, smoothing his hands down Ludwig’s starched shirt. “It’s amazing you remember how to put pants on at all.”

“A miracle every time it happens, yes,” Ludwig said wryly, sitting down on the bed. He reached out to pull Gilbert’s towards him, guiding the younger man’s hands to the tie around his neck with a silently pleading look on his face. He really had no idea how to tie one on himself. Gilbert batted his hands away and sat down on his knees to work, his long fingers deftly tying the bow.

“Honestly,” he muttered, the soft smile on his face enough to completely ruin any semblance of genuine irritation.

“Hopeless, I know,” Ludwig said quietly, resting his hands on Gilbert’s slim hips. The young lord’s dress was mostly complete as well, and for a moment Ludwig wished he weren’t so jaded seeing Gilbert dressed in finery. He wore the suits of his class well, his shoulders just broad enough to keep him from drowning in the tailored coats and jackets.

Ludwig suddenly leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Gilbert’s lips, unable to help himself any longer. He felt Gilbert laugh against him and the young lord’s breathy voice in his ear as he murmured, “You always jump me when I pay you even the slightest bit of serving attention. You’d think it were indicative of some hidden desire to make me a valet of your own.”

“Nothing so menial,” Ludwig murmured, capturing Gilbert’s lips again with a quiet sigh. He had to hope that when they were alone, at least, that Gilbert wouldn’t mind. The gentle arch of the younger man’s body certainly hinted towards his willingness, and when they finally pulled away the look of annoyance on Gilbert’s face was too childishly stubborn to be anything serious.

“Menial?” he echoed, lightly tweaking Ludwig’s nose. “Honestly. It’s rather unbecoming that you have such a low opinion of your own profession, Ludwig. Have some pride.”

Ludwig hummed in response and rubbed his nose against Gilbert’s, his fingers carding through Gilbert’s soft hair.

“Then you’ll be my valet? You agree?” he murmured, kissing Gilbert’s cheek.

“W-What… oh very clever, farmhand, I’m not falling for that,” Gilbert grumbled, his head tilting back to push into Ludwig’s touch. He suddenly stood, ignoring the little growl of irritation Ludwig made as he did so.

“We’re going to be late.”

Ludwig grunted in response and reluctantly abandoned his ploy. He pushed himself up to grab his tailcoat before following a chatty Gilbert out the door. If it weren’t for the promise of food and a private box he would be dreading attending something so dull. While he liked listening to Gilbert play piano and even violin (although he was rather terrible at the latter) going to listen to some strangers play for several hours was not his idea of a night well spent. Especially since the house was all but deserted.

By the time he’d shrugged on his coat and found a suitable top hat (ridiculous things) Gilbert was already waiting for him downstairs and was fiddling with his cape. The young lord glanced up as he approached, and the pleased and slightly flustered look made Ludwig rethink his reluctance to attend. He reached out to help fix the stubborn fabric Gilbert was struggling with and then held out his arm for the young lord to take. He pointedly eyed the cape and then raised an eyebrow. Gilbert flushed slightly.

“It’s a gift from my grandmother,” he mumbled, tugging at the cape. “I don’t care that it’s out of style. It makes me feel heroic.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Ludwig pointed out. Gilbert stuck out his tongue in response but his grip around his arm tightened slightly. He opened the door and lead Gilbert down to where the town car was waiting. It was almost uncanny how perfectly everything was orchestrated, and Ludwig had a deep suspicion that Gilbert’s grandmother had left instructions for Oxenstierna and the driver to ensure Gilbert’s every move was anticipated well ahead of time.

The car took off down the street, and in the privacy of the cab Ludwig found himself with Gilbert resting in his lap once more, slim arms around his neck and shy lips against his own. Exactly as they had left off. He frowned slightly and did his best to push Gilbert away – more in deference to his possible hesitations than any real desire to stop – but the young lord whined softly and tightened his grip. Ludwig didn’t need more convincing than that. He reached out towards the shades, fumbling slightly with the cord as he tugged them down and did his best not to rumple Gilbert’s clothing too much, to little avail.

When the town car finally stopped in front of the concert hall they stumbled out onto the street, faces flushed and bowties and hats slightly askew. Evening had settled in and the street lamps were lit, casting passersby on the street into eerie shadow. The marble steps leading up to the round building were bathed in a soft light, and from beyond the arched doorway Ludwig could hear the lilt of posh voices and polite laughter.

He straightened himself up as best he could, casting an apologetic look at Gilbert. But the young lord merely shook his head, his teeth clamped down on his slightly swollen lip to hide his embarrassed smile. He held on to Ludwig’s arm as they walked up the steps, and Ludwig kept his head bowed to talk quietly to Gilbert, unable to keep from smiling. Gilbert’s cheeks were flush with lingering excitement and when Ludwig brushed against him as they walked the young lord’s body trembled ever so slightly. A very different air had taken hold of Gilbert since earlier that afternoon, and he seemed outwardly reluctant to leave Ludwig’s side. Even when Ludwig offered to check their coats he shook his head and insisted on going with, his gloved hands still holding on to Ludwig’s arm as they entered the foyer proper.

The room was lit with large electric lights overhead and candles along the wall. Tables creaked under the weight of massive amounts of food and drink and ice sculptures far more elaborate than anything Ludwig had seen even at the Horschhorn manor. Throngs of elegantly dressed men and women crowded around them, talking and laughing in voices both affected with amusement and genuine with wine.

Ludwig found himself unable to move, the lingering effects of Gilbert’s affection not enough to combat the sudden feelings of inadequacy. He caught several people glancing his way, obviously recognizing Gilbert, but their eyes lingered on him a bit too long, brows furrowed as they struggled to place him.

Ludwig took a hold of Gilbert’s hand, doing his best not to look every inch the fraud he was. The young lord glanced up at him, one pale eyebrow raised in confusion and all he could offer was a little grimace.

“I don’t belong here.”

Gilbert’s burst of surprised laughter made Ludwig scowl, but before he could protest he was being dragged over towards a group of women chatting amongst themselves. One of them, a slightly plump girl with short blonde hair glanced over as they approached, and her green eyes lit up. She looked to be about Gilbert’s age and judging from her jewelry was from an exceedingly well-to-do family.

“Gilbert!” she said happily, leaning up slightly to kiss his cheek. “Goodness, you should have told me you were in town! I never did thank you for tending to my cousin when he visited. Auntie and Uncle said he was ever so upset when he returned but that he’s recovered nicely. I imagine he must have been a bit of a pest while he was staying with you.”

“Antonio was fine, an absolute wonderful guest, all of the usual blandishments that go along with that sort of thing,” Gilbert said airily, glancing up at Ludwig as he tugged him forward slightly. The girl smiled curiously up at Ludwig and he flushed under the scrutiny.

“I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure…” she said politely and Gilbert laughed.

“No, you haven’t. This is Ludwig Schmidt. He’s staying with my grandmother as well. Ludwig, this is Bela. Don’t leave her with her hand hanging out like that she looks like a puppet whose strings have been cut.” He elbowed Ludwig in the ribs and the girls laughed as Ludwig scowled down at him before finally remembering his manners. He took the girl’s hand and kissed it like he’d seen Gilbert do to so many visiting women.

“The pleasure is all mine, Lady Bela,” he mumbled, swallowing around a pit of nervousness in his throat.

The girl laughed rather boisterously, and Ludwig was reminded of Eliza’s own pealing laughter. It wasn’t an unpleasant comparison.

“Oh, Gilbert, wherever did you find this adorable charmer?” she teased, still smiling at Ludwig.

“Now, Bela, you know if I told you you and your friends would swoop down and my pool of eligible bachelor friends would dwindle down to nothing,” Gilbert said idly, examining his nails although he was wearing gloves. “Now if you’ll excuse us we need to take full advantage of the true reason we came here tonight before the concert starts.”

“The true – oh Gilbert, is that why you’re here? The food?” the girl laughed, her gaze lingering on Ludwig slightly longer than he was comfortable with. “At least you’re honest. And perhaps after the concert you and your friend could come find us again? I would love to catch up.”

“Sadly we may have to make later arrangements,” Gilbert said mournfully, pressing a hand dramatically against his forehead. “Pressing post-concert business to attend to. You know how horribly swamped the life of a debonair such as myself is, hardly any time to breathe.” Ludwig fought not to roll his eyes. Bela’s expression fell slightly but she nodded all the same and said kindly, “I look forward to it. I’ll send a telegram to your grandmother’s place tomorrow afternoon, then.”

“I shall wait with baited breath,” Gilbert said with a little bow, his hand slipping once more into Ludwig’s under the pretence of tugging him towards the table. “Come along, Ludwig, it isn’t polite to stare at the nice young ladies.”

“Wh—Gilbert,” Ludwig growled quietly, his cheeks flushing more as the women all laughed. Bela smiled up at him again and said rather softly, “It was a pleasure meeting you, Lord Ludwig.”

“No ‘lord,’ my lady,” Ludwig said quickly, the title sounding strange with his name. He cursed softly and amended, “Lady… Bela. You must forgive me, I’m terrible with names.”

She laughed brightly, a pleased flush on her full cheeks.

“Just Ludwig, then,” she said brightly. “Do enjoy the concert, Just Ludwig, and feel free to seek me out should you tire of Gilbert’s exuberance.”

Ludwig could only nod, too tongue tied and flustered to speak before he was dragged away by Gilbert. The moment they were out of earshot he groaned quietly and hit Gilbert’s arm.

“She thinks I’m a lord,” he hissed. “Gilbert this – this is the sort of thing people like me get arrested for. Impersonating royalty.”

“Oh hush, you’re being far too dramatic,” Gilbert said with a little snort, taking a plate and starting to fill it as best he could while still keeping his arm looped around Ludwig’s. “She thought you were a lord because you were with me, and most importantly because you act like a lord and look like one as well. If you had the fortune of being born into my house as well you would be one and nothing about your comportment bears any resemblance to your humble roots. You should be proud.”

“I don’t – I don’t feel comfortable pretending to be what I’m not,” Ludwig finally said, gently nudging Gilbert’s arm to get him to pick up another of the last delicious looking tartlet thing he’d selected for himself. “And I would rather not forget those humble roots.”

“You pretended to be a valet until you became one. I can hardly imagine why the same could not apply for a slightly grander title,” Gilbert said teasingly, but the expression on his face was a thoughtful one. Ludwig shook his head and didn’t respond, letting Gilbert cart him around wherever he wanted. He caught the woman – Bela, why did he have such a hard time remembering that name – glancing their way every so often and with an uncomfortable lurching feeling in his stomach realized that she had bought his performance completely.

A gentle touch to the back of his neck made him focus on Gilbert again, and he had to cross his eyes slightly to focus on the little morsel he was being offered. He gave Gilbert a small smile and took the thing, eating it in silence as Gilbert talked quietly to him about whatever the piece was they were about to go listen to. He forgot about his shame the longer Gilbert talked, and by the time the lights flashed to alert the patrons his mind was where it belonged again. The glances his way no longer felt questioning and suspicious, and as they were ushered into the private booth he didn’t even react to being called ‘lord’ again by someone who had probably been born several stations above him.

The box was close to the stage, enough that Ludwig could make out the delicate brocade on the curtain. He leaned over the railing, admiring the architecture of the domed building while Gilbert tied the curtains shut before moving to join him. The young lord laughed and rested his head against Ludwig’s shoulder as he murmured quietly, “You look like a child on Christmas.”

“It’s a very large space,” Ludwig said, not even bothering to correct Gilbert’s rather accurate jab at him. “I’ve never seen a concert hall this size before.”

“It is impressive, I’ll give you that,” Gilbert hummed, wrapping his arm around Ludwig’s waist. Ludwig raised an eyebrow at that and Gilbert had the decency to look slightly embarrassed.

“I… no one can see,” he said quietly. “Certainly not the peons down below.”

“Peons. Lovely to know this is how the lords of the land talk about my people,” Ludwig murmured even as his expression softened. He reluctantly moved away from the balcony edge and sat down, holding out his hand for Gilbert to take. They sat in silence, fingers entwined and eyes focusing more on each other than the stage. As the lights dimmed and the curtains rose Gilbert’s hand tightened around Ludwig’s, and just before the first graceful draw of a bow Gilbert leaned over and whispered softly in his ear.

“These post concert activities I mentioned to Bela… well, you… you wouldn’t want to make me a liar, would you?”

Ludwig gave Gilbert a slightly puzzled look. In the dim light from the stage he could just barely make out the young lord’s expression. His lips were pressed together in a resolute line and his eyes were fixed on Ludwig’s. Just before the questioning implication of Gilbert’s words hit him, Ludwig felt a gentle touch to his thigh. Clarifying.

His legs trembled slightly as Gilbert’s hand slid up his leg, stopping just below his hip. Neither of them moved for a very long time, their posture ramrod straight and eyes remaining fixed on the stage.

Ludwig wanted to have to wrestle with the decision. To seriously consider their position, the aristocrats nesting the boxes around them, the lights overhead that could return at any moment. But even when he repeated to himself over and over again that this was perhaps the stupidest thing they had ever even considered, the warmth against his leg strangled any rational thought and left it to die in a gutter. It hadn’t put up much of a fight to begin with.

He finally shook his head, just as the music picked up speed and the rest of the audience leaned forward in their seats, eager for the piece to begin in earnest.

“No,” he said softly, still staring at the musicians below. “Never a liar.”

A slight hitch in Gilbert’s breathing was all the evidence Ludwig had that the younger lord had even heard him. But when he turned to steal a glance at Gilbert he caught the red eyes that had been studying him carefully all along.

The fingers against his leg tightened slightly and Gilbert nodded. Just once.

Down on the concert hall floor the lords and ladies and finery of London sat at prim attention, clinging to every note for a moment that they hoped would be impetus for intelligent conversation when the lights brightened again. The mournful strains of violin and the rush of hammered keys floated up towards the ceiling, but in the suspended box they were drowned out by Gilbert’s whispered voice against the curtains. Gloves lay discarded on abandoned chairs and Gilbert’s bare fingers clung to the heavy fabric he was pressed against.

They had moved with a convenient burst of sound from below, eager, nimble steps quickly hiding them against the side wall, in the shadows from all but several boxes. It started as a simple kiss, a gentle, timid meeting of lips in such a public place, but the lingering heat from earlier affection and Gilbert’s emboldened touches quickly drowned the last of Ludwig’s reservations. He closed his eyes against the warning tightening in his gut and reluctantly pushed himself away from Gilbert during a lull in the music, lips swollen and neck and collar marked. He glanced over his shoulder to confirm that the opera glasses of the dozen or so patrons he could see were still fixed on the stage. But the young lord’s quiet, desperate voice, barely masked by the concerto drew him back, and the rest of the theater was dead to him.

Pale fingers fumbled with too many buttons and even above the increasing roar of the music below Ludwig could hear soft, impatient curses in his ear. He closed his eyes, his throat still throbbing from Gilbert’s teeth and lips, and felt the trembling of Gilbert’s hand against his bare chest, his stomach, and fingers shying away from the beginnings of coarse hair just under his navel. Ludwig leaned forward to whisper quiet words of understanding, reassurances that he could stop, his own voice weak and his legs shaking. But then a sure hand pressed against him and he lost all conscious thought. He distantly heard someone in the box above them shush them, and he had to fight back a laugh when Gilbert pulled away just enough to let out a quiet gasp of apology, his voice dark with unfettered lust and his fingers still squeezing Ludwig gently through his clothing. The intrusive voice fell silent, either from mortification or resignation, Ludwig couldn’t tell and didn’t care. They both fumbled with the unnecessary layers of shirts and the buttons and clasps on trousers, desperate hands seeking out bare skin and flat planes of muscle that Gilbert informed him in a breathy voice had been conspicuously absent from any illustration he’d been forced to bear witness to. Ludwig agreed with whatever he’d said, too focused on his fingers delving below the young lord’s waistline to follow Gilbert’s ramblings.

He pressed his palm against Gilbert, his touch as insistent as Gilbert’s had been. The younger man’s head instantly slammed back against the wall, ripping the flaking gold wallpaper even more. His throat bobbed as he swallowed heavily, his eyes squeezed shut and lithe body trembling from the first brush of fingertips against bare, velvet skin. Ludwig just barely caught the beginnings of a desperate keening noise and quickly moved to silence Gilbert with a hand over his lips before he cried out his pleasure to the entire theater.

“S-Shh, Gilbert… my love, not so loud,” he pleaded as softly as he could, blue eyes darting to the side to check that the curtains were still closed. Gilbert nodded against his hand, red eyes opening once more to fix on Ludwig’s face. Slim fingers closed around his wrist and pulled his hand away, but before Ludwig could protest or apologize Gilbert was kissing him again, his movements insistent and feral in their intensity. When Ludwig broke the kiss and pulled away the young lord’s eyes were two darkened embers glowing in his skull. Ludwig barely had time to gather his wits about him before Gilbert was buttoning his clothes for him with deft, nimble fingers and picking up their discarded jackets, his free hand still clamped around Ludwig’s wrist.

Gilbert left the box, Ludwig trailing behind him feeling slightly lost, his coat carefully draped to hide his front. They were through the doors that marked the entrance to the private hallway, collars sloppily buttoned and ties askew, before Ludwig even thought to ask what had happened, his voice so quiet and confused he barely recognized it as his own.

“What—where are we going?”

Gilbert glanced over his shoulder.

“I was under the impression that all I had to do was say I want you,” he said, continuing to walk down the hallway, still dragging Ludwig behind him. “And I am fairly sure that I said something to that effect. Several times. Loud enough to be shushed, even. And while I certainly enjoy an audience for most things debasing myself so publically seemed a bit much. Even for me.”

His grip tightened around Ludwig’s arm.

“And it would be callous of me to continue in front of them. As though I were rubbing it in their faces, that they’ll never have anything nearly as wonderful as I do. That I can touch and abuse and love something so perfect and the best they’ll ever have is a few barely audible gasps during a stuffy concert.”

He smiled at Ludwig and turned back around.

“And don’t you dare fight me on my descriptors. Any hope you had of convincing me otherwise of your perfection was lost the moment you told me I didn’t have to. “

Ludwig felt his face burn and he stared down in shock at Gilbert for a long moment, his rattled brain still trying to catch up from where he’d left it splattered and useless on the box seat floor. He twisted his arm in Gilbert’s grip to thread his fingers through the younger man’s and picked up his pace until they were both practically running down the hallway, Gilbert’s laughter peeling back the gold paper that plastered the walls. From the other side came the last strains of music, climbing to its zenith and bellowing out one final impassioned note. Their feet left the marble stairs, and the floor behind them shook with thunderous applause, pushing them out into the night. White breath clouds twisted together while they spoke in hushed, adoring voices, fingers still clasped tightly together as they walked abreast down the bustling London sidewalk, blind to every face that glanced curiously their way.


	21. Cruci(a)tion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as promised, after thanksgiving update! i need a vacation from my vacation. it was pretty stressful, and this chapter kind of reflects that. but i wouldn’t have even made it to this point if it hadn’t been for lynne and prince of elsinore. you should go thank them if you enjoy this chapter because they’ve both been stupidly encouraging and i love them to bits.

Breakfast that next morning was a painful affair.

For Gilbert, it was largely because his grandmother didn’t seem to believe in breakfast nook chairs with cushioning. For Ludwig, it was because the butler kept giving him what could only be called knowing looks. Ludwig could have sworn he saw the man smirk once or twice, but he convinced himself of his own paranoia and dismissed his fears.

 

Both their plates remained more or less untouched. Gilbert was acting not at all like himself to anyone but Ludwig, for whom the shy, furtive glances were now welcomingly familiar. The gentle touches to his knee and hand underneath the table were making it difficult to concentrate, and he was terrified of letting the least amount of emotion evince the dénouement of the previous night. But he had woken with Gilbert naked in his arms, their bodies still pressed together and Gilbert’s scent surrounding him. Reality had slowly pried them apart as they woke but Ludwig could still feel the beating of a foreign heart against his own. Feel the breath against his ear and hear muffled cries ringing in his head.

It had not been perfect. Few things were and when decorum was violated without practice the feeling of uncertainty was enough to account for more than a few twinges and remonstrations. There was no magic of painlessness, no total absence of stilted and awkward conversation. But Gilbert had finally laughed and it wasn’t a laugh at him but at how shy and scared they were and that had been what banished the demons. He’d been so unbelievably happy. Even through the fumblings and roughly hewn caresses and the joy of having the young lord submit to him so completely Ludwig could hear that laugh still. The utter joy it evoked in him. The sweetness of its timbre and his head and heart were so full of the simplicity of devotion that it took all he had not to throw himself at Gilbert’s feet or sweep him off of his and pin him to the wall and kiss him until they were both flushed again with that capricious daughter of lust.

The children were too excited about visiting the Tower to notice, thankfully, although Gilbert’s grandmother was suspiciously quiet. She only once prompted Gilbert to eat, and when his response was less than enthusiastic she stayed her hand when normally she would have gently thwacked him upside the head.

A gentle touch to his shoulder startled Ludwig out of admiring the slight bruise he could see peeking out from underneath Gilbert’s sleeve. He glanced at Eliza who was staring at him with an impishly amused grin on her youthful face.

“Oh Ludwig, you’re so distracted! Have you heard a single thing I’ve said?”

Ludwig could not help but blush at the childishly accusing voice, and he shook his head in apology. Eliza let out a great sigh and then said primly, “Grandmama wants some time alone with Gilbert today. It’s our last day here, you know, and as you’ve been too busy hiding in the library to properly see anything at all I have decided to make you one of my charges today.”

Ludwig blinked.

“…I beg your pardon.”

Eliza merely smiled and patted his head.

“I promise to get you home safely,” she said, her voice saccharine and simpering enough to make Vash snicker under his breath.

Ludwig couldn’t even dredge up the irritation to shoot the young boy a glare. All he could do was nod and silently curse the fact that their last day of freedom would be spent apart. The heat from Gilbert’s glare he could feel rolling across the table was evidence enough of the young lord’s similar displeasure, and when they excused themselves to their room Gilbert burst into a full blown tirade.

“That she-witch knows this is our last day! What nonsense is this about needing to discuss ‘affairs of state’ with me? She’s making it sound liked I’m the bloody king. Nothing I have to discuss with her is that pathetically ostentatious,” he ranted, pacing fitfully across the small room.

Ludwig sat down in a chair in front of the fire and watched the young lord seethe, his own disappointment not easy to conceal.

“The timing could be better,” he said quietly, his lips quirking up into a very slight smile. “But you know that if left to our own devices all we would not leave this room for the better part of the day. Even your cousins would start to suspect some sort of foul play.”

“Let them suspect what they want. They’re all too inhibited to come anywhere close to guessing the truth,” Gilbert said dismissively, waving his hand. He paused mid-stride and glanced at Ludwig out of the corner of his eye. His pale cheeks slowly grew red and he shifted a bit, clearing his throat.

“I… the maid has already turned down the bed,” he said, suddenly looking anywhere but at Ludwig. “You did take care of things, I hope.”

“Of course,” Ludwig said, snorting a bit at the younger man’s sudden silence. He stood and moved to Gilbert’s side, his hand lightly trailing down the lord’s back as he leaned down to murmur quietly, “But some evidence is not so easily rid of.”

His fingers brushed against a bruise he knew was there hidden underneath Gilbert’s high collar. Gilbert had the decency to look abashed and he swallowed heavily before mumbling, “As if I would want to be rid of such a thing. I asked you to leave it, after all.” His eye twitched. “Although now I am regretting some of my more spontaneous requests and actions, largely for reasons of pain and secondary humiliation.”

“You have nothing to be ashamed about,” Ludwig gently chided, pressing a kiss to Gilbert’s cheek before heading over to the wardrobe to start packing. “And I hope you don’t tarnish the memory with your insecurities.”

“I am most certainly not insecure,” Gilbert huffed, sitting down on the bed in a bit of a sulk. “But you weren’t the one grov—being made to grovel and beg like some sort of salacious whore. Honestly, farmhand, where have you been hiding that domineering side of you? You’ve only been so kind or so cruel as to show me glimpses before but after yesterday I hardly think anyone would doubt you were born to the wrong class. You should be a military general or at the very least some sort of sadistic executioner. As if there were any other kind.”

Ludwig’s hands faltered for a moment as embarrassment suddenly took hold of him as well. It was true that last night a certain side of him had come to the forefront that he had not been expecting. But it was one that Gilbert, apparently, had been, if the way he begged and cried out for him were any indication.

“A pity I was born to a cobbler, then,” he finally managed to say, picking up the fallen suit and packing it carefully away.

“A cobbler? Is that so.” Gilbert leaned forward, interest obviously piqued. “You hardly ever talk about your family, farmhand. Is it because they are as unextraordinary as you initially appeared to be?”

Gilbert dodged the suit coat that was flung at him, a predatory look in his eye.

“Oh dear. Worse, then,” he said sympathetically, sliding off the bed. He moved to Ludwig’s side, taking the older man’s hand in his and pressing a teasing kiss to the palm.

“Would a bit of incentive loosen your tongue?” he purred, glancing up at Ludwig through his pale lashes.

Ludwig’s fingers curled at the bit of contact, but a steely expression had cast a shadow over him and it was not so easily effaced.

“With this one topic I’m afraid your charms have little effect,” he said quietly, offering Gilbert an empty smile. “I would prefer my family and my past to stay where they are. They don’t deserve to touch you.”

Gilbert’s slightly put-out expression softened at that, and with a little sigh he stood on tiptoe to give Ludwig a kiss.

“You make it so vexingly difficult to stay irritated with you,” he said, brushing a strand of hair off of Ludwig’s forehead. “Even when I want to be a complete prat and throw a fit as is my right as a lord and teenaged boy.”

“I promise to break something of yours and you can scold me all you want, then, if that would help alleviate any pent-up brattish tendencies,” Ludwig promised quietly, relaxing a bit at the kiss. He bent down to return the favor, his hand resting on Gilbert’s shoulder and squeezing gently before he reluctantly moved away.

“Your cousin will be coming to fetch me soon,” he said quietly, finding himself unable to take another step. Gilbert was looking forlorn yet irascible again, and it was difficult to fight the instinct to console him.

“I suppose she will. Nosy thing,” Gilbert finally sighed, sitting down on the trunk and picking off a label that had once read ‘New York’ but had since some time ago faded considerably. He winced and clutched at his lower back.

“I swear to whatever deity is left that will still turn a sympathetic ear towards me that next time you will be the one so mangled and contorted,” he muttered, casting Ludwig a sour glare.

Ludwig couldn’t help but laugh even as his reluctance to leave tightened its grip around him. He knelt in front of Gilbert and kissed his hand, murmuring softly against the pale skin, “You are more than welcome to make good on that oath when we next find ourselves enough alone to make it feasible.”

Gilbert’s eyes widened slightly and he stared at Ludwig in confusion before he hesitantly spoke.

“I… I assumed that last night’s… arrangements would reflect the norm,” he said.

“There is no such thing as far as we’re concerned,” Ludwig dismissed, reaching out to gently grasp Gilbert’s chin, tilting his head side to side to inspect him. “What norm could we possibly be betraying that we have not already smashed to pieces and defenestrated quite soundly.”

“De- defenestrated oh Lord,” Gilbert laughed, his hesitation seemingly forgotten as he patted Ludwig’s cheek. “It’s so endearing when you throw your improved lexicon at me. Like a goat learning to waltz. A more quaint and charming picture I couldn’t devise.”

“You’re too kind,” Ludwig said blandly, wincing when Eliza’s voice drifted up the stairs.

“Ludwig, darling duck! Are you ready?”

He sighed and gave Gilbert one last kiss before covering the young lord’s ears and calling out, “I will be with you in a moment, Eliza!”

“Call her ‘my lady’ you pompous swine!”

Ludwig rolled his eyes and muttered more to himself than anything, “Roderich has found new bravado. This is not a change that bodes well.”

“Today should be a fun excursion for you, then,” Gilbert said, gently prying Ludwig’s hands away from his ears and leaning up to give his cheek a kiss. He wrinkled his nose and ran his thumb along Ludwig’s jaw line.

“You need to shave. Quite badly. It’s astounding the depths to which your depravity has dragged you. Neglecting hygiene…”

“You’re one to talk,” Ludwig teased, nuzzling Gilbert’s jaw and kissing the completely smooth skin. “Your skin is like sandpaper. How dare you.”

“It is not!” Gilbert protested, pushing against Ludwig’s shoulder slightly. “Believe me, I wish it were. There’s something wrong with me. When my father was my age he had a beard, complete with beehive or something if the pictures of his obscenely large facial hair growths are anything to go by. And without some sort of beard or – I feel so…” He wrinkled his nose. “Juvenile.”

“It just matches your personality,” Ludwig said sympathetically. “Maybe if you –”

He ducked the pillow flung at him, and with a little chuckle he stood and headed into the bathroom to shave as Gilbert wanted him to. He could hear the children downstairs throwing a fit of excitement, and in his distracted hurry the razor dug a bit too deeply and drew blood.

“Farmhand – oh for heaven’s sake.”

Before Ludwig could so much as grab a towel, Gilbert was staunching the slight trickle of blood with his tie, a look of slight vexation his face.

“Whatever am I to do with you,” he grumbled, genuine worry in his voice.

“My apologies, my lord,” Ludwig said quietly, his gaze softening as Gilbert fussed over him and patched him up. The young lord pointed to the rim of the bathtub and barked, “Sit.”

Ludwig sat.

Gilbert whipped up some more shaving lather and brought the tools over to the edge of the tub, carefully sitting on Ludwig’s knees before starting to spread the lather on the older man’s face.

“Pretty soon I’m going to have to be dressing you as well,” he muttered, smoothing the brush over Ludwig’s upper lip. “And please don’t talk. I don’t want to accidentally slice open an artery.”

“With the lather brush?” Ludwig murmured, earning himself a gentle hit upside the head and a furious glare before Gilbert resumed working.

“You’re very lucky I have a saint-like disposition towards the lowly bred,” Gilbert muttered, carefully tilting Ludwig’s head to the side to start shaving his face. “And a steady hand and a well of infinite patience.”

Ludwig wisely said nothing, but he rested his hand on Gilbert’s knee and squeezed gently to let him know he was listening. Red eyes flicked to the side to catch his for a moment before focusing on the razor once more.

“Eliza is starting to suspect, I think,” Gilbert said quietly, wiping the razor on a towel to clean it before gently running the blade down Ludwig’s throat. “Whether my grandmother tipped her off or her nasty intuition did, I don’t know. But I believe that’s why she’s being so dogged about you taking them out today. She’ll corner you and badger you until you let something slip because you have a weakness towards women that I personally find rather baffling.”

Ludwig sighed through his nose and closed his eyes. He had noticed Eliza fixating on them a bit more than usual. Their strange living arrangements during this trip most likely weren’t helping assuage her suspicions, but he’d be damned if he gave in to a little girl’s disquisition. Lady of the house or not, she was still a child, guileless and ready to give into any explanation even remotely cogent.

“And no ready argument available, I see. Shameful,” Gilbert murmured, a teasing smirk on his face as he finished up with the shaving and set the razor aside. He gently wiped the rest of the later off of Ludwig’s face and gave his cheek another kiss.

“Much better,” he said, grabbing Ludwig’s chin and tilting his head back and forth to examine him, mimicking what Ludwig had done not minutes before. “Now when you’re lying to my cousin you’ll look a good deal more convincing. I doubt she would have swallowed any explanation coming out of the mouth of such a lazy sod who couldn’t even bother with a proper shave.”

“Charming as always,” Ludwig muttered, returning the kiss. He raised an eyebrow at the young lord and gave his knee another little squeeze. “Where on earth did you learn to do that, though? I know your father goes to the barber to get his shaves…”

“Ah, well…” Gilbert’s ears turned slightly pink. “Kirkland, actually. There was a period of time where he demanded we all learn to be self-sufficient, should anything happen to the estate and we be reduced to the middling classes. I can even sew a button. Horrifying, I know, but Father approved of the lessons and sad as it is they have come in handy every once in a while.”

“Goodness, what a show-off. I had no idea you were possessed of such talents,” Ludwig teased, pushing himself to his feet while still holding on to Gilbert. He turned and pushed the younger lord’s back up against the wall, capturing his lips in another kiss. Their last day of living as strangers in a large city and they had to spend it apart. The bitterness was unbearable – far more than he had anticipated and he had to stop the kiss before long as Gilbert’s quiet, pleading words were making it difficult for him to keep his senses about him.

“No, love, we can’t,” he said quietly, to assure himself of his position, his breathing still slightly labored. He ran his thumb over Gilbert’s swollen lips, unable to resist kissing them again to silence the younger lord’s curses.

Ludwig stepped away from the wall, Gilbert’s legs still wrapped around his hips and the young lord still grumbling about the unfairness of it all.

He carefully sat down on the bed and detangled himself from the lithe limbs, smiling at Gilbert and receiving only a sulk in return.

“Your grandmother will scold you if you approach her looking like that,” he gently chided, pinching Gilbert’s cheek.

“I don’t care,” Gilbert said childishly, tugging a pillow to cover his face. “I don’t want you to go.”

“It’s only for a day,” Ludwig laughed, tugging his shirt on and buttoning it properly before grabbing his coat. “And your cousins and I will have some mild fun, and when I get back this evening we’ll have one last night together and it will be even more wonderful for having waited.”

He tickled the soles of Gilbert’s feet, expertly dodging when the boy lashed out with them.

“Temper,” he gently warned, pushing himself up and giving himself one last look-over in the mirror before heading towards the door. He paused just before leaving, turning to glance over his shoulder. One red eye was peering up at him from under the pillow, and after a bit Gilbert slowly sat up, a heavy scowl still on his face.

“Don’t let Eliza boss you around too much,” he said, his red eyes looking everywhere but at Ludwig. “She can be awfully conniving.”

“Noted,” Ludwig said quietly. “But I promise not to say anything you wouldn’t want me to.”

Gilbert gave a terse nod and then said politely, “I’m going to continue sulking now, but please don’t think of this as any indication of my waning affections.”

“I love you too,” Ludwig said, giving the young lord a little salute before stepping through the door and shutting it carefully behind him.

As he headed downstairs, the din from the children’s cavorting grew exponentially louder, and he briefly wondered if taking some aspirin in advance wouldn’t go amiss. Before he had a chance to procure some, however, Eliza had latched onto his arm and dragged him towards the entry way, babbling at a thousand words a minute about the day’s itinerary. Vash was his usual quiet self, hanging around the back of the group, while Roderich was in full pout, his childish lips pressed together and his blue eyes narrowed behind his glasses. Ludwig tried to smile at him, but the boy just turned away, his slight shoulders tensing. Ludwig let out a quiet sigh and turned his attention back to Eliza. He’d tried. That was all that could really be asked of him.

When the butler opened the door for them, the look on his normally stolid face was surprisingly sympathetic. Slight trepidation pricked at Ludwig’s heart, and he thought longingly of aspirin and his room and Gilbert and how easily it was to quiet him and how difficult it was to deal with children when two thirds of them seemed to loathe you and the remainder intent on sussing out every last detail of your necessarily private life.

The cab ride to the Tower was, however, surprisingly pleasant, and by the time they reached their destination the newness of the place and morbidity of its history took hold of the children enough to allow Ludwig to relax slightly. He paid for their tickets and a private tour (as per Gilbert’s grandmother’s request), and he spent the majority of the afternoon in silence, only responding to direct questions or comments pressed upon him by the children. In one of the torture chambers, however, Roderich grew frightened and started to cry, and when Ludwig attempted to comfort him all he got in return for his troubles was a tiny fist in his eye, fueled by embarrassment.

Eliza spent the rest of their time there with Roderich’s hand firmly in her own, which seemed to cheer the boy despite the fact that she was constantly lecturing him and Vash was insisting on critiquing Roderich’s punching technique. Ludwig left the children for a moment in front of a display and stepped outside to nurse his eye. A Roderich scorned was a furious beast. The skin might even bruise enough to be noticeable, and Ludwig had to take several deep breaths to keep his temper under control before returning to the children and ushering them out of the Tower.

The rest of the day was spent in a rather sullen silence, despite Ludwig’s best efforts to keep Eliza from being irritated with Roderich and, more importantly, to keep from saying things that would make Roderich want to punch him again. His eye was hurting and women were staring at him a bit too long, so he had the unpleasant feeling his eye was already a bit black and blue.

When they finally returned back to the townhouse, Ludwig wanted nothing more than to head upstairs and nap until supper time, but when he made for the stairs a hand on his arm stopped him. He turned to see the butler holding out a small envelope, blue eyes fixed on him.

“For you, Mr. Schmidt. Telegram.”

“A telegram?” Ludwig repeated like an idiot, but he was honestly shocked. He’d never gotten a telegram outside of army correspondence in his life, and it was the wrong sort of paper for it to be from the regiment.

He cautiously took the envelope and, following the butler’s silent prompting, headed into the study, shutting the door behind him. He took a seat in front of the fireplace and carefully opened the envelope, skimming the contents of the letter quickly. There wasn’t much there.

A MAN BY THE NAME OF ELDRICH STOPPED BY THE HOUSE [STOP] HE WAS INQUIRING ABOUT YOU TO A RATHER ALARMING DEGREE AND SO I SENT HIM ON HIS WAY AT WHICH POINT HE BECAME BELIGERANT [STOP] HE INSISTS ON SEEING YOU TOMORROW AND HAS BEEN BADGERING MY STAFF [STOP] I EXPECT YOU TO DEAL WITH THIS IMMEDIATELY UPON YOUR RETURN TOMORROW [STOP] KIRKLAND [STOP]

Ludwig’s hands began to shake and he quickly shoved the paper into the fireplace, watching it burn with no small amount of satisfaction. But when the bits of char were blown up the chimney he was left feeling cold and anxious still. He pushed himself to his feet, pacing up and down in front of the mantle place, hands shoved in his pockets and his eyes fixed on the ornate rug covering the hardwood floors.

He felt like a child again. Which would follow since the last time he had heard that name he had been one, hiding in his room with his brothers and listening to it screaming through the house, enough to rattle the windows and shake the boots piled up at the front of the door.

Ludwig sank into the couch, pressing his hands against his eyes as he fought to keep the name from wrapping its stinking claws around him. It was only his father. Only a man, only a poor, depraved man whose hand he hadn’t known for so long, liver spotted with age now, most likely, and not strong enough to grasp much of anything.

But how had he found him. Who had told.

The sneering faces of several of the staff appeared before him, and earlier still his commanding officers who always had their suspicions about the fake little family he’d construed to act as fodder when questions came his way. It could have been any of them. Either a do-gooder or an ill-wisher and there was no way of knowing unless he directly asked the man himself but even the name held such power over him, that stupid name embossed on the small sign outside of their house where he used to run his fingers over the brass, the one thing he’d been able to read growing up poor and stupid with fingerprints on his wrists.

He was a grown man now. Nearly thirty and still he could feel the cold letters underneath the pads of his fingers and smell the gut rot.

Ludwig fought back a childish sob, terror starker than anything the war could bring nailing his heart still against his ribs, the muscle struggling to move and only pulling the metal in deeper until he could hardly breathe.

A quick knock on the study door broke through the plummet and he quickly pulled himself together.

“Ludwig? Are you in there?” Gilbert’s curious voice rang out. “Oxenman said you’ve sequestered yourself away which really is quite selfish of you and I have half a mind to leave you sulking in there for the rest of our little trip.”

Ludwig let out a shaky breath, glancing around in hopes of spotting a mirror hidden in some corner so he could see just how miserable he looked, but the walls where lined only with tapestries and maps.

“Yes, I’m here,” he said, wincing at his choked voice. He cleared his throat and spoke again before Gilbert could comment. “You’re welcome to come in, although I’m afraid my mood has taken a turn for the worse.”

The door immediately opened and Gilbert came sauntering inside, the picture of affected disinterest. He closed the door behind him and moved to sit next to Ludwig on the sofa.

“Eliza told me about – oh that little tosser I am going to kill him,” Gilbert hissed, grabbing Ludwig’s chin to get a better look at his eye.

Ludwig allowed the manipulation, closing his eyes in a sorry attempt to hide his more recent activities. But Gilbert knew him far too well, and in a slightly bemused voice the young lord said slowly, “I know a punch hurts, Ludwig, but he’s only a child. Is it really worth crying over?”

Ludwig’s eyes flew open in surprise, and he stared at Gilbert, slightly dumbfounded, before he laughed quietly and shook his head.

“No. It’s… far from painless but as you said he is a child,” he said quietly. “Had it been Vash I might be out for the count but Roderich is only just learning how to throw his weight around. And I’ve had m-much wor—”

His throat seized up again and he fell silent, not wanting to fall apart in front of Gilbert. They had seen each other completely exposed, and yet there was still that careful emotional distance Ludwig wanted to maintain that gave him a sense of autonomy. Stubbornness and insurrection of the lower classes.

Gilbert snorted quietly, but the lines around his eyes were tight with worry. He cast a wary glance towards the door and then pushed himself up to press a gentle kiss to Ludwig’s cheek, just underneath his battered eye.

“The Ox beast also said something about a telegram…” he hedged, long fingers pushing back Ludwig’s hair. “Is that why you’re all… poofy? In the facial region, I mean. Nothing… nothing demeanor wise…”

Ludwig remained quiet for some time, the fireplace ashes choking his thoughts. Finally he gave a curt nod. There was little use hiding anything from Gilbert. He was a ferret, almost as bad as the staff when it came to uprooting things that Ludwig struggled to keep entombed.

Gilbert sat back on his haunches, gnawing worriedly on his cheek.

“May I read it?”

Ludwig shook his head and gestured to the fireplace.

“Oh.”

Gilbert’s tone was slightly annoyed, but from worry or honest vexation Ludwig couldn’t tell.

The study fell silent again, the crackling of spent logs in the hearth swallowing up the slight shifts in posture, movement of throats and aborted thoughts. 

“You won’t tell me?” Gilbert finally ventured, subdued and slightly hurt.

“I can’t,” Ludwig said quietly, his heart breaking from the young lord’s voice alone. He knew that if he looked at him he would cave, his childhood spilling from his lips like a torrid, rotten mass of shame and humiliation and as much as he loved Gilbert with every fiber he possessed, it was not enough to save him from that sole mortification. Not yet.

For a moment Gilbert looked murderous in a childishly hyperbolized way, skeletal fingers twitching as they no doubt longed to wrap themselves around some poor soul’s throat. The anger and hurt in his eyes was enough to make Ludwig flinch away, and that seemed to get Gilbert’s attention once more.

“Oh, Ludwig, please don’t look at me like that,” he said desperately, any vicious intent vanishing without a trace. He moved closer to the older man, movements stilted and unsure as he stroked Ludwig’s damp cheek. “I’m only worried –”

“And angry that I am keeping something from you,” Ludwig said quietly, too tired to sound accusatory. “You don’t need to lie, Gilbert. You’re a horrible actor.”

Gilbert pressed his lips together in a thin line, but all he said was a light, “I am a wonderful actor, everyone tells me so. At least all the people I pay do.”

“Please, my love, just… let it go,” Ludwig said, giving the younger man a slightly pleading look. “I don’t even know yet if there’s anything to worry about and regardless I won’t be able to even address it until I’m back at the manor. There’s no use –”

“How can you tell me to let something go when it has been the only thing to reduce you to proper tears since I met you?” Gilbert said, his voice clipped once more. He pulled away, a cruel look on his face. “I have told you every precious thing about me, and the one time when I might actually need to know something, I—”

Ludwig pressed his hands against his face, too battered already to properly deal with Gilbert’s outburst. To have the one person he trusted upset with him in that moment cut too deeply. Abandoning him now would be horrible of him, so all he could do was hide in plain sight and hope to God that Gilbert had the decency to let him be.

“You can’t even look at me,” Gilbert said in disbelief, and Ludwig could hear his anger building. “Ludwig, stop – why are you acting like this?! What was in that telegram?”

Strong hands wrapped around his wrists and tugged them away, but Ludwig kept his gaze stubbornly averted, even when Gilbert grabbed his chin again to snarl into his face.

“What was in there that you don’t want me knowing?! Some secret affair? Have you been filling some comely woman in on my affections for your own amusement? Is there some illegitimate child somewhere you’ve been all but selling yourself to me in order to provide for? Are you dying?! Is England at war?! What, Ludwig, just tell me!”

Ludwig swallowed heavily, trying to let Gilbert’s words slip by him, but each one tore a bit at his resolve. Gilbert didn’t trust him. He didn’t trust him enough to let one simple telegram go. Even if it was fueled by love or worry his insecurities were twisted and dark and all the little jokes Gilbert made about him not leaving and his orders not to look too long at women, not to talk to them too long or entertain their affections were so incredibly shallow and transparent. The young lord was just a stupid, jealous little brat when Ludwig needed him to be the man who challenged him and cared for him as equals, not this hissing, feral housecat ready to claw his eyes out the moment he showed weakness.

Ludwig pushed himself to his feet, ignoring Gilbert’s sudden, stunned silence.

“I’m leaving.”

Gilbert sucked in a sharp breath, and Ludwig glanced at the younger man over his shoulder.

“I’ll be heading back to the manor tonight. I trust you can take care of the children on your own, my lord?”

“Ludwig, this isn’t funny,” Gilbert snapped, standing up as well and moving to block the older man’s way. “I would ask that you drop the feigned submission act immediately, unless you really want me to act like your proper master.”

“I will leave the tickets for the train tomorrow on your nightstand, my lord,” Ludwig said, his voice even and distant. “I am sure your father will understand the need for my haste. Good day.”

He pushed his way past Gilbert, easily breaking the young lord’s hold when Gilbert made a grab for his wrist.

“Ludwig!”

Ludwig pushed open the study doors, ignoring the snarled words at his back.

“Ludwig stop – just stop, dammit and listen to me! Lud—”

The study door closed, muffling Gilbert’s voice.

Ludwig ignored the butler’s stare and headed to the second floor to finish packing his things. He had only brought a small bag, not wanting to take up too much room that could have been used by the family’s luggage. After washing his face he made his way back downstairs, stopping only to apologize to the butler, who promised to see the children safely onto the train and to telephone ahead to let the manor know he would be arriving early.

His duties taken care of, Ludwig left, walking the ten blocks to the station rather than hiring a cab. The streets were crowded during the rush hour, and he had to wait for quite some time before he was able to buy a ticket. Luckily the train was leaving in fifteen minutes, and before he had time to doubt his decision he was seated in the normal coach, listening to the squabbling family next to him to keep his mind occupied. Every now and then a small crack would form and a word or a thought would leak through. Gilbert’s sneering face, seven letters on a page, quiet heartbreak in his love’s voice when the door had shut. The final, pleading tone of one witnessing the consequences of a poorly planned outburst.

Ludwig pressed a hand against his face, feigning exhaustion to hide the stinging against his lashes. The spat with Gilbert was at least keeping his mind in the present, giving him anxiety enough to drown the seven letters waiting for him somewhere in the manor village. Kirkland at least had the presence of mind to not offer the man a place to stay at the manor, and for a moment Ludwig felt the relief of gratitude towards the competent butler. He hoped he would be able to remain in his good graces even after abandoning his charges.

Golden light streamed through the windows, its comforting warmth enough to send Ludwig into a fitful sleep. He awoke only several minutes from his station, and had to hurry to get his things together in time to disembark.

He was unsurprised to find, when he stepped off the train, no coach or cab waiting for him. The manor was a good ten miles from the station, and just as he was about to make the trek on foot, he spotted a familiar flower delivery carriage. He stopped to talk to the man, and was relieved to discover that he was indeed delivering flowers that evening for some party the earl was hosting the next day. Ludwig paid the man a few coins for a ride, thankful that they also bought the man’s silence.

An hour later the carriage pulled through the second set of manor gates, and Ludwig disembarked, offering the man another quiet thanks. The carriage trundled down the road and turned towards the gatehouse before disappearing around a bend. Ludwig watched it go and then made his way to the back entrance of the manor where they brought in the coal and (increasingly less and less) the oil for the lanterns and other shipments. It was late enough at night that the kitchen was all but deserted. Mrs. Peeters was sitting at the table with a lone candle, looking over what appeared to be expense reports. She glanced up from her work when Ludwig entered and offered him a small, tense smile.

“We heard you would be arriving home early,” she said, closing the ledger book and pushing up her glasses to rest atop her plume of graying hair. “And about your eye, which looks very painful, by the way. The earl was not very pleased to hear you’d left the children in London, but Mr. Kirkland was quite adamant that this was for the best, and that seems to have soothed his lordship’s ruffled feathers. As did Roderich’s shameful actions. He understands you’ll be wanting some time alone.”

“I am truly sorry,” Ludwig said, averting his gaze. “It was irresponsible of me, regardless of the reasons behind my actions.” The candlelight made the woman’s features look especially odd, and to his tired mind she swam in mirages, dizzying to look at.

“I know you are, and so does the earl, deep down,” she said gently. “But that man comes by every morning and kicks up such a fuss… we really will be grateful to have you here so we needn’t deal with it a fourth time.”

“A fourth time?” Ludwig repeated in utter surprise. “He’s been here that long?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so,” Mrs. Peeters said with a little sigh. “The first day he was relatively polite, but the second and third he became slightly… forceful. Requesting to speak to particular members of the staff and so on. I finally had to have one of the younger boys gently oust him from the kitchen. We thought of calling the police on harassment charges but Mr. Kirkland rightly pointed out that if indeed the man were your father you might not appreciate his ending up in a holding cell.”

“Honestly that might be the best place for him,” Ludwig said, a bitter note to his voice.

The kitchen fell silent before Mrs. Peeters pushed herself to her feet and moved to gently take Ludwig’s hand.

“While I cannot speak for the rest of the staff, you will always have Mr. Kirkland’s and my support,” she said gently. “Whatever may come of it.” She hesitated a moment and Ludwig felt her slim hand tremble around his own, but she seemed reluctant to put voice to her thoughts.

“Mrs. Peeters, what is it?” Ludwig finally had to ask, curiosity forcing his tongue. “You seem shaken.”

She faltered only a moment longer and then gently patted Ludwig’s hand.

“The rumors have continued to fester during your absence,” she said. “And I am afraid that some of your father’s statements have only fueled them. To be honest, you arriving home separate from the children will help that particular aspect in the eyes of the rest of the staff. Not that their opinions are worth much – particularly Alex who has grown positively beastly while you’ve been away. He’s taken to his duties with a turgid air about him that is absolutely insufferable. Thank goodness the earl is too kind to notice but the rest of us have been casting him more than a few wary glances.”

“I see,” Ludwig said quietly, too exhausted to dwell long on that particular worry. “And am I to resume my duties as normal tomorrow?”

“Providing wrangling with the man claiming to be your father does not take too much time, yes, I would very much appreciate if you would,” Peeters said, a fatigued look taking hold of her. She gently patted Ludwig’s arm and then picked up his suitcase for him.

“But you have had no doubt a very tiring day, and tomorrow will no doubt only further weary you. To bed with you, young man.”

Ludwig’s lips quirked upwards in an empty smile.

“I think I’m a bit too old to fit that description,” he said, but Peeter’s merely waved her hand and snorted. “Hardly. You may have fought in the Great War but some of us remember an even earlier time before all of this electricity and automobile nonsense.”

“You yourself are far too young to be talking like that,” Ludwig gently teased, the older woman’s maternal presence a great comfort to him. He let her carry his bag, and spoke quietly with her about the manor’s financial affairs. By the time they reached his room he had calmed considerably, and after wishing the head of house goodnight, he cleared his mind and quickly set about readying himself for bed. Once under the sheets and with a cold press over his eye, however, his thoughts slowly clawed sleep away from him. It wasn’t until the moon was low in the sky that he was finally able to drift off into an uneasy rest.

Ludwig was awoken by the sound of raised voices outside his window. He quickly moved to peer out through the glass and was relieved to see it was only a few of the gardeners having a spat about the roses. The sun had not yet shown its face. Ludwig blinked his dry eyes and wished very much that he could simply go back to bed. The children’s train wasn’t until the afternoon, which meant that he wouldn’t see Gilbert until late that evening, if at all.

With the reluctance of a man with one foot on the gallows steps, Ludwig slowly set about getting ready for the day. It was strange to have to wear his pressed suit and tie again. He’d gotten so used to being able to wear more casual outfits while in London. It took him a moment to acclimate himself once more to the stuffy wardrobe, but by the time he was washed and shaved he had slipped back into his old habits. The bruising around his eye was hardly noticeable any longer thanks to the cold press.

As soon as he left his room, the smell and noises of breakfast downstairs wafted up, setting his stomach growling despite the nervous knots it was twisting itself into. He listened carefully, but the one voice he was most concerned with was thankfully absent. After pausing to wish a few of the maids a pleasant morning (their responses were far too saccharine to be normal) Ludwig headed downstairs into the kitchens. There was a mad rush, and Ludwig recalled the purpose of last night’s flower delivery. Another party, then. One he would most likely have to attend to.

He quickly grabbed a plate and what food he felt he could stomach, all the while aware of several sets of eyes on the back of his head. Alex and his gang, no doubt, seated at the far of the table and talking too loudly for such an early hour. Ludwig took his normal seat and ate in silence, ignoring the stares as best he could

Finally he was directly addressed, Alex’s voice full of obsequious charm.

“Good to have you back, Ludwig. Your job is so easy I feared I was growing soft from having to hold your position while you were away.”

Ludwig raised his head and spared Alex a glance. The man was smirking fit to burst, a self-satisfied air about him that set Ludwig’s teeth on edge. Ludwig merely nodded in response and said a polite, “Happy to help,” before returning to his meal. Alex seemed not in the least bit fazed by the slight dismissal, and chatted on amiably as though he had every right to.

“I assume you’re back early because of the bit of unpleasantness with the man… oh damn, whatever was his name. It’s on the tip of my tongue.”

He fell pointedly silent, but Ludwig refused to take the bait. He finished his food, struggling a bit to keep it down as Alex spoke again, the utter glee in his voice enough to make any man sick.

“He’s been stopping by the same time every day. In just a few minutes, actually. And he always asks about you.” Alex let out wistful little sigh. “I wish my own father cared as much about me, but he’s maintaining our house in Leeds. It must be nice to have a father so woefully unemployed he can spend days on end inquiring after his miscreant son—”

“Alex, don’t you have some silver that needs to be polished?” Kirkland’s reedy voice interrupted the groomsman’s ramblings.

Alex smiled at the butler and said politely, “Terribly sorry, Mr. Kirkland. I was merely informing Mr. Schmidt of his visitor.”

“I think he is well apprised of the situation already, thank you, Alex,” Kirkland said in a clipped tone, raising one bushy eyebrow at the group at the end of the table. They all reluctantly stood, casting Ludwig curious, excited, and even apprehensive glances as they passed. Ludwig’s gaze remained firmly fixed on his plate as he carefully cut his fruit into miniscule pieces. So forced was his concentration that he didn’t even hear Kirkland approaching, and started slightly when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“I trust you will deal with this incident in a way that will not bring further suspicion upon you, Mr. Schmidt,” Kirkland said, the slightest hint of concern coloring his words. “I do not want this kind of thing happening in my area of jurisdiction again. Family matters and other private affairs should stay as such.”

“I understand,” Ludwig said, pushing himself to his feet and giving the older man a grateful smile. It was a bit forced and Kirkland raised his other eyebrow.

“You look terrible,” he said bluntly. “After you have sent that ruffian on his way, please do try and relax. This house cannot afford to have you working at anything but your best.”

“I will,” Ludwig promised, struggling a bit harder to hide his weariness.

“Very good.”

Without another word Kirkland turned and made his way into the kitchen, and a moment later Ludwig could hear his chastising tone berating one of the scullery maids. Poor girl.

Ludwig placed his tray in the kitchen window and glanced at the clock. It was ten past five. If he came every day like clockwork as Kirkland implied, the hour was upon them already. Already Ludwig could hear ghostly steps on the gravel just outside the kitchen door, smell the odor that clung to his clothing and hung about his person like a fetid cloud announcing his presence.

There came a polite two raps upon the door, and over in the kitchen the maids grew quiet.

Ludwig’s shoulders tensed and he fought to hide a wince as every pair of eyes slowly fixated on him. But he found himself unable to move, his hands still gripping the window counter, his eyes still fixed on a small, unsightly knot in the wood, wondering absently, increasingly fanatically if he could somehow wipe it out by taking sandpaper or a plane or an axe to the surface.

Two more knocks sounded, and a moment later Kirkland’s reedy voice.

“Mr. Schmidt. If you would please welcome our guest.”

Ludwig shot the man an anxious glare, forgetting for a moment that he was addressing his superior. But Kirkland’s order had broken the paralysis, and forced his body to move with a volition that was not his own. He watched his hand close around the latch, dimly felt the press of metal against the pad of his thumb.

The door swung open, and standing on the porch, dressed in a suit and tie, was a tall yet visually unremarkable man of about fifty. He had graying hair about his temples and square glasses slightly hid his watery blue eyes. He wore a cap typical of his class that hid his short cut blonde hair. His build was similar to Ludwig’s, and although the years had atrophied his muscles slightly, he bore evidence of a youth spent more in violence than in literature or leisure – calloused fingers, full cheeks, and a slightly crooked nose. He met Ludwig’s eyes with an even stare of his own, and his thin lips pulled back into an excited grin.

“By God it’s true,” he said slowly, staring Ludwig up and down. “Lookit you. Inna suit n’ everythin’, hair all slicked back proper like, jus’ like when you run away.”

With a loud burst of laughter, Eldrich clapped his son on the shoulder and pushed his way inside the kitchens. He called out in a thick, syrupy voice, “’ello again, ladies! An’ oh, Mr. Kirkland, lookin’ especially sharp today. I’ll take the usual if’s not too much trouble.”

Ludwig was too stunned to move initially, the suit and tie conflicting sharply with his long-held image of the man. He heard the kitchen maids reluctantly preparing his father a cup of coffee, felt Kirkland’s eyes on the back of his neck, and suddenly the gentle clink of a porcelain cup for his father grew too much to bear.

With a few quick strides Ludwig closed the distance between himself and the elder Schmidt, the man somehow towering above him despite his being seated. Ludwig opened his mouth to lambaste the man, to demand to know how he’d found him at all, to say something of the thousand words he’d penned to himself every night in his youth. But as in all moments when it truly mattered, the words scattered from him.

Eldrich raised an eyebrow in anticipation, a curious smile on his weathered face. When nothing came, he kicked out a chair with the ball of his foot and then raised his mug.

“Good stuff they serve ’ere,” he said lightly, one ragged fingernail scratching along the smooth surface of the porcelain. “Jus’ the right amount of sugar. Sit down an’ ‘ave a cup. Won’t ’urt you none.”

Ludwig found himself sitting down, his back ramrod straight and his eyes fixed on a point a few inches above his father’s left shoulder. The strings were already wrapped around him once more, and it was quickly becoming impossible to move without at least a subtle nod of permission. He could feel the maids staring at them through the small window into the kitchen, and much more blatantly, the rest of the servants from the door into the dining room. Even Mrs. Peeters was there, her gray bob of hair sticking out in the crowd of onlookers. Eldrich seemed content to pretend as though they didn’t have an audience. He leisurely sipped his coffee, an odd drink of choice for him, and tapped his finger upon the table in a little leisurely dance.

Thankfully, it was Mr. Kirkland who broke the affected comfortable silence.

“Mr. Schmidt, as much of a joy it is to have you in my kitchens, I believe there was something you wished to discuss with your son,” he said politely, his green eyes fixing on the elder Schmidt before slowly shifting to stare first at the kitchen staff and then at the rest gathered around the doors. The younger maids quickly tried to busy themselves, but several of the older staff – Alex chief among them – took their time averting their interest. Again, Eldrich didn’t seem to notice or to care. Instead he merely laughed and clinked his cup against Kirkland’s pocket watch.

“Stickler for time, eh, Kirkland?” Eldrich elbowed Kirkland in the side, and the older man hid a grimace behind a practiced façade of apathy. “Shoulda called you rabbit. Y’know, that rabbit wot was always checkin’ ’is watch in that book with the Chinese caterpillar.”

“I am familiar with the reference, yes,” Kirkland said dryly, casting Ludwig a steely glare. “I will leave you to it, then. Please do not take too long, Mr. Schmidt. You will be needed presently.”

With that the butler left as well, shooing several maids out with him.

Ludwig remained silent, his shoulders tensing slightly now that he had no one left to act as any sort of buffer. His skin felt clammy and cold, as though it were dying from the outside in by mere exposure to the man in front of him, calmly drinking his coffee and chatting idly about the weather in a pretentious, unnatural way crafted to suit the tie choking his neck.

“….an’ it’s much colder in ‘ere than I thought it’d be. Aren’t these lord types supposed t’ ‘ave better heat n’ such? Radiators an’ wot not. But ‘s really not the case—”

“Are you here about my mother?” Ludwig interrupted, desperation making him find his voice at last behind the bile in his throat. His voice was clipped from a horrible combination of necessity and nerves. “Is something wrong with Bastion or Jens? Some funeral or will I need to attend to?”

Eldrich let out a gut-busting laugh and then drained the last of his coffee. He set the cup down hard enough to chip the edge, and when he spoke it was with all the dismissive indifference Ludwig remembered from his childhood.

“Emelie’s fine. Shrill as ever. Yer brothers are fairin’ well too, though they’re still in Africa somewhere or out near Jerusalem, forget which. ’aven’t seen nor ’eard from ’em in nearly two years. Tho accordin’ t’ Martha down at the Blackstone, Bastion’s got a bastard son wanderin’ about. Looks just like the two ’o ya, same blonde ’air n’ everythin’, but my guess is the bitch just wants t’ trap ‘im. Fine catch your brother is. Risin’ ranks faster than a whore falls in love with the poppy.”

“Then why are you here?” Ludwig asked sharply, interrupting whatever else might have come pouring out from between his father’s teeth. “Why in God’s name have you spent all this time and money and harassed my employers just to have a talk with me? What could possibly be of interest enough—”

“Jesus almighty they got you talkin’ like them too!” Eldrich laughed. Still his blue eyes flashed with the dark jealousy found in men who watch top hats stroll by from underneath their messenger caps. “All proper like stuffy Kirkland.”

“I’ve talked this way for years now, and had you bothered to keep even the slightest bit of contact with me instead of showing up unannounced and uninvited on my doorstep you would have known that,” Ludwig said icily, his hands curling into fists. “Not that I would have welcomed contact from someone like y—”

The kick to his chair didn’t catch him by surprise, but the force behind it did. He fell heavily against the table, his chair clattering to the ground.

Eldrich’s blue eyes stared at him from behind the cut crystal.

“Tone, Ludwig,” he said, his voice oddly quiet. “Won’t warn ya twice.”

Ludwig picked himself up, his cheeks ruddy with anger and childish embarrassment.

“My apologies,” he said, righting his chair and sitting down again. He rested his hands in his lap to hide how badly they were trembling.

The elder Schmidt regarded his son for a long moment, and when he spoke again he was brusque, all business.

“You’re a good deal keener than I thought you were, growin’ up with your brothers,” Eldrich said, leaning back in his chair. “’Course they was geniuses. You looked a right moron next t’ ‘em. ‘S not your fault. Some’re just born better.”

Ludwig waited for his father to continue, but there was a pensive look on the older man’s face that indicated a preoccupation with something that would require Ludwig to arrest his attention once more. He swallowed heavily and braced himself before asking as politely as he could, “And may I ask what brought about this changed opinion?”

Eldrich gave an ungainly snort and fixed Ludwig with a pitying stare.

“Maybe I oughta reassess that,” he said lightly, and then gestured around the kitchen. “’Ow long you been here, then? Three months? Six? Can’t be more’n ’alf a year. I’dda known about it long ‘fore then otherwise. Long enough t’ ingratiate yourself among these upper types, at any rate. Seem very fond ‘a ya. Willin’ t’ risk th’ embarrassment of a man like me sittin’ pretty in their kitchens jus’ t’ speak with ya.”

Eldrich suddenly leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees.

“Nice t’ see you learned a bit o’ wot yer mum an’ I tried t’ teach ya. Bastion n’ Jens… they’re too proper. Moralists. Incredibly borin’ the both of ‘em. But you…” He grinned and brushed his thumb against his nose. “Knew there was somethin’ different in ya, Ludwig. Same thing’s flowin’ through my veins. So wot’s it, then?”

Ludwig could only stare at his father, honestly at a loss.

“What’s… what?” he asked quietly. “I’m afraid I don’t –”

“Don’t play the innocent. I know wot it is yer up to,” Eldrich said sharply, leaning forward a bit more. “I ‘ear you’re ‘specially close t’ the young lord. ‘Nough ‘t make the rest o’ the staff get all uneasy like. But they’re all piss poor dumb an’ short sighted. They don’t got the brains you ‘n I were blessed with by the Lord above. Smart. Real, real smart t’ make them uncomfortable enough t’ stay away. Gives you a better chance.”

“A better chance to what?” Ludwig asked, starting to feel caged. “For God’s sake please be straight with me—”

“The con, boy,” the elder Schmidt said in hissed exasperation. “Might be shrewd but you’re terrible at playin’ th’ liar. Makes me wonder ‘ow you’ve lasted so long.”

Ludwig stared at his father in disbelief. Eldrich sat back, a smug look on his face.

“An’ there it is. Thought you could keep somethin’ like this from me, eh?” He laughed quietly. “You may be smarter ‘n some, Ludwig, but I’ll always best ya. You known that since you was a kid. Learned it good an’ learned it for life.”

“You think I’m… I’m conning them,” Ludwig repeated quietly. “To what end?”

“To wot – Wot else?” Eldrich said slowly. “’E’s a earl. Been listenin’ about – ‘is son’s supposed t’ marry ‘is cousin or somethin’, ‘an when ‘e does ‘e’ll come into an ‘ell of a lot. ‘Least that’s the word ‘round town. An’ even th’ baker knows yer his favorite. Be easy t’ win ‘im over, learn a few of the ‘ouse secrets, maybe even extort somethin’ if you wanna follow through with those sodomist rumors. Somethin’ like that’d kill a man as high station as ‘e is.” Eldrich’s eyes flashed with amusement. “I’m assumin’ you’ve ‘eard them, right? Gaw, the things these people think yer capable of doin’ t’ just a little boy. Sickenin’ t’ ‘ear, but useful. Dunno if you planned it like that, but if you did, gotta give credit. Not a route I’dve personally taken, but still viable.”

“That’s quite a story you’ve concocted, but even if it were true what is it to do with you? What do you want,” said Ludwig, his voice shaking very slightly. “If it’s money I’ll pay it. I’m assuming that’s all that it could be, considering I’ve never heard you talk this long to get anything else, save maybe a drink or t—”

Without warning Eldrich stood up and slugged him right in the temple. Above the hairline so the bruising wouldn’t show.

Ludwig grabbed onto the table to keep from being knocked to the floor again, blinking stars out of his eyes as he stared up at his father towering over him. The elder Schmidt shook out his mortar hand and carefully slid it in his pocket. His blue eyes were cold as they fixed on Ludwig’s face.

“I don’t warn twice, Ludwig,” he said quietly. “An’ I want in.”

Ludwig immediately shook his head, panic dulling the fear and pain and making him react instinctively.

“Never,” he said quietly, the word lacking impact as his voice wavered. “You aren’t getting near –”

“I want in, or those lovely little rumors will reach th’ good earl,” Eldrich calmly continued, kicking Ludwig’s hand off the table so he could sit down on the very edge and stare into his son’s face.

Ludwig met his father’s eyes, a frenzied fear taking hold of his insides and clawing against his skin.

“You can’t,” he said in a panic, struggling to focus on his father. “The thought of the earl listening to a drunkard like you is ridiculous.”

Eldrich pressed a hand against his chest, a wounded look on his face.

“Drunkard? God above, the slander. Such calumny against yer own father,” he said mournfully. “Every livin’ soul in this ‘ouse knows me. Knows I only take a sippa coffee ‘fore shufflin’ away t’ look for my prodigal son. An’ even if that disassembly fails. Well.”

Eldrich leaned forward and gently patted the side of his son’s head, right against the swelling spot under his skin.

“You know by now, Ludwig. I don’t work alone.” His smile grew. “An’ there’s plenty in this ‘ouse who’d rather see you dead than alive. Sad thing for a father t’ ‘ear. But good for business.”

He pushed himself up and fixed his tie.

“You ‘ave a week. Either you let me in on this little scam, get me some sorta job ‘ere, don’t matter wot, so I can keep an eye on this little operation, or those rumors gain a hell of a lot more credulity.”

He stared down at Ludwig once more, all traces of humor gone from his expression.

“You forget, Ludwig,” he said. “I’ve seen th’ way you look at th’ others. Yer commandin’ officers’ reports. Yer diaries from when you was a kid. I’d be a fool t’ come all this way with no concrete evidence. An’ all it takes is a little seed. Planted deep. The young man – or girl, not givin’ away my ‘and so easy – who’s been fillin’ me in ‘ere. They already tilled th’ soil. Won’t take more than a letter, I shouldn’t wonder. An’ I know you’ve seen wot happens t’ men like you who’re caught, Ludwig. Nearly pulled the trigger yerself just t’ keep hidin’ like the crafty snake you are.”

Eldrich smiled once more and clapped his son on the shoulder.

“One week. Since we’re establishin’ a family business, I figure I’ll be lenient when it comes t’ th’ timetable,” he said genially, doffing his cap. “Good t’ see ya, Ludwig. I’ll take my leave.”

The elder Schmidt picked up the chipped cup and slid it into his coat pocket before heading towards the door, whistling softly.

Ludwig’s gaze remained fixed on the table, his shoulders trembling slightly. The click of a latch echoed through the empty room, and he was alone.


	22. Repris(a)l

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the penultimate chapter. it’s getting harder and harder to write this FOR REASOSN but i will try and finish it ASAP. thanks as always for reading!

A few minutes after Eldritch left there came the heavy sound of shoes pounding against the wooden staircase outside. The door to the kitchen burst open and a furious Gilbert stormed inside. He was covered in dust and his hair was disheveled, his tie a complete wreck. He rested against the doorjamb, breathing heavily before he slowly raised a finger, pointing it at Ludwig.

“You,” he hissed, his red eyes blazing with anger. “You barge out of my grandmother’s house, ignore a direct order to explain your actions, and leave me and my cousins abandoned in London. You, farmhand, owe me a Ulysses-length explanation or I swear I’ll–”

Ludwig lifted his head and stared at Gilbert, his fogged mind barely comprehending that the young lord was even truly there. His expression must have been horrible, for it was enough to make Gilbert look alarmed through his fury, and the rest of his tirade died on his lips.  
Gilbert lowered his arm and took a cautious step forward.

“…Ludwig?”

Ludwig pushed himself to his feet, the blow to his head making him sway a bit. Gilbert immediately darted forward and wrapped an arm around the older man’s waist to keep him from falling over.

“Ludwig… Ludwig, you idiot, what is it, what’s happened?” he asked quietly, his tone stern even as his voice wavered. “You’re frightening me…”

Ludwig shook his head, unable to speak around the lump of brimstone lodged in his throat.

A week.

He had a week, maybe less, before his father returned. And one little word from him was all it would take. Ludwig wasn’t even sure his father had the evidence he claimed he possessed, but that didn’t matter. Eldritch was right. All it would take was a few words whispered in the right ear. For Roderich to voice his fears, for Elizaveta to make an innocent, childish remark about how close the two of them had been in London. About how Ludwig and Gilbert had spent their days in their bedroom, refusing meals, playing games and reading books, she could only assume, what else could two grown men get up to on their own?

There was a clock ticking over them now. Its seconds counting down.

Ludwig stared at the little bells lined up on the wall. One for every room of his house. The ones he heeded were at the very top right. Gilbert’s room. Gilbert’s study. The library. How their tinny sound had driven him mad when he’d first arrived and how mellifluous they were now. The little bells that dictated his fate. To think they had rung for someone else before. For someone who had never heard past the quiet ping of the metal, who had never traced the string back through the floorboards and walls and into a room two floors above that held caged the most brilliant creature. Pulling temperamentally on the string.

Ludwig stared down at Gilbert, trying to hear his voice again, but all he could hear was the servant’s bell. His father would come in a week. Oozing between the cracks in the drywall and spread his poison throughout the manor. The earl was a good man. A kind, caring man. He wouldn’t throw the father of one of his employees out on the street. He would embrace the adder warmly, and smile as its fangs sank into his bloodline.

“Ludwig!”

Ludwig was pulled back to the present, to voices and not bells and a terrified looking Gilbert in front of him, holding onto his forearms so tightly he could feel the bruises.

“Ludwig – God above, stop leaving me like that,” Gilbert said weakly. “Fetter your thoughts for just a few minutes. You owe me that at least.”

Ludwig nodded obediently, his lips cracking when he parted them to speak.

“I don’t… I don’t mean to leave,” he said softly. “I didn’t want to leave you in London. Or your… your cousins.”

“What? Oh. That.” A dark look stole across Gilbert’s face for a moment before he waved it away. “We can discuss that later. Kirkland said something about a visitor? Is that why you came back?”

The color left Ludwig’s cheeks and he stared down hopelessly at Gilbert before he wrapped his arms around the young lord and pulled him close. He felt Gilbert’s heart beating wildly in his chest, still fueled by anger and confusion and he whispered a quiet apology against the crook of Gilbert’s neck as his eyes began to sting.

Gilbert tensed uncomfortably, but he rested a shaky hand against the back of Ludwig’s head.

“If you wanted a hug this badly, farmhand, you didn’t have to stage such a big production to get one,” he muttered, his fingers carding through Ludwig’s hair, gently working out any tangles.

Ludwig shook his head. “We both know… I-I’m too horrible an actor to have any hope –”

He wanted so badly to return the banter, to cling to the normalcy of their exchanges, but the words were anemic in his mouth. He let them die and simply held Gilbert closer. Gilbert seemed to understand the need for silence. He kept his arms wrapped tight around Ludwig, glaring at anyone who risked approaching the kitchen doors, daring them to so much as breathe in his presence.

It was a very long time before Ludwig finally released Gilbert. He stood up straight, his eyes dry and a defeated look on his face.

Gilbert studied the taller man and gently pushed him towards the door.

“We need to leave the kitchens before we end up fighting in front of the help,” he said pleasantly. “Go up to my room. Wait there. I have to deal with a very cranky Roderich whom I may or may not smother to death with his own cravat.”

“No, I should help,” Ludwig protested, quickly adding, “My lord,” when Kirkland’s profile appeared in the doorway.

“Indeed you should,” Kirkland said dryly, his green eyes fixating on Gilbert long enough to make the young lord squirm uncomfortably and mutter, “Good to see you too, Arthur.”

Kirkland raised an eyebrow.

“Goodness. On a first name basis. What has London done to you. Upstairs, if you please, my lord. The staff needs to get back to work and moving around your lachrymose form would be quite inconvenient.”

Gilbert shot the man a dirty glare, but then muttered, “Very well. Later then, farmhand. Once your duties have been seen to.”

“Your grammar lessons are in dire need of a review,” Kirkland remarked as Gilbert passed. “And please, Lord Gilbert. Kirkland. If you don’t mind.”

“Your next title will be ‘insufferable ex-butler,’” Gilbert snapped, kicking the stairway post in passing.

“Quaking, my lord. Do watch your step,” Kirkland said absently, his eyes moving to fix on Ludwig instead. Ludwig faltered a bit under the scrutiny, listening to the sounds of Gilbert’s rage as they slowly faded up the stairwell.

When he and Kirkland were truly alone the older man finally spoke.

“Has the problem been dealt with?”

Ludwig remained still for a long moment before he slowly shook his head. If Kirkland was surprised or annoyed he didn’t show it.

“I see,” he said evenly, straightening his lapels. “Are you in need of police assistance?”

“No!” Ludwig said quickly, panic making the word far more forceful than he’d intended, but the police – he could be arrested. Even just a word, just a single word in the wrong ear…

Kirkland pursed his lips and studied Ludwig’s face very carefully before he said quietly, “I do not like surprises in my household, Mr. Schmidt. Your father’s arrival was an unfortunate occurrence I would very much like to avoid in the future. I believe we share that goal in common. If there is any information you could provide that might help bring about that happy end, I would use it only in confidence. I hope I have your trust in this.”

“You do,” Ludwig said quietly, unable to meet the older man’s eyes. “I do trust you, sir. Very much. But there is… there is nothing to tell. He only wanted money, and when I could not provide that he promptly lost interest. I apologize for his presence in this household, no matter how brief it was. I’m ashamed to call him family, sir.”

Kirkland regarded Ludwig calmly, watching Ludwig’s eyes flit back and forth, his hands twist his suit coat.

“I suspected his arrival had a monetary bent, although I would not have guessed his aim to be so simplistic,” he finally said, turning to the bells and ringing several of them that led to the maids’ rooms. “The man is shrewd. It’s obvious that a dark streak of intelligence lies in your family tree. Should he come again, will you be able to deter him once more?”

“Yes,” Ludwig said quietly, the lie coming a bit easier than the previous one. “Although I very much doubt that he will return, sir. He has little concern for me, and my money remains out of reach. He will lose interest quickly enough.”

“Is that so,” Kirkland said, turning to Ludwig with his hands clasped behind his back. “You’ll forgive me my harsh words, Mr. Schmidt, but I have found, in my experience, that men like your father are so rarely dissuaded. There is a tendency among the upper echelon of society to paint the lower classes as slovenly and indolent, but there is a certain subset whose craft takes nothing less than the most mettlesome sort of tenacity. Rather like a hunting dog having caught the scent of a fox. Single-minded from a most horrible avarice.”

He narrowed his eyes.

“Are you sure there is nothing you wish to tell me, Mr. Schmidt? It need never leave this room. You have approximately twenty seconds before we are descended upon by the rest of the downstairs.”

Ludwig lifted his head and finally met Kirkland’s eyes, forcing himself to keep his expression neutral.

“As I said, sir. I doubt we will ever hear from him again,” he said quietly. “Your kindness is appreciated, but there is nothing to discuss.”

Kirkland let out a little breath, a very slight frown creasing the corners of his eyes before he gave a nod.

“Very well,” he said briskly. “See to the children’s luggage and arrange for baths to be drawn for them. They have had a rather harrowing journey and their clothes need tending to as well.”

“Yes, sir,” Ludwig said softly, inclining his head very slightly before he turned to leave. He felt Kirkland’s eyes on him as he left the kitchen, and wondered grimly if the lie had taken at all.

From the way Kirkland paced, the noise audible even up until the first floor stairwell, Ludwig had to assume it hadn’t.

Roderich was in a foul temper, and Vash was so sleep-deprived he needed gentle instructing simply to ascend the stairs. Elizaveta, on the other hand, was awash with a fervid curiosity that made her the worst to deal with. Being the most sensitive of the cousins, it was obvious she had picked up on Gilbert’s sudden change in temperament, and, not being a complete idiot, had linked the mood swing to Ludwig’s sudden disappearance. This meant for Ludwig, unfortunately, that he had to endure a fusillade of questions while dealing with Roderich’s snippiness and ensuring Vash did not fall asleep in the tub and drown.

By the time the children had been seen to and their luggage stowed it was nearly noon, and Ludwig was soaked, exhausted, and dreading the conversation that awaited him in Gilbert’s room. A pathetic slovenliness was all he had left to cling to, however, and so his feet moved him unbidden to the young lord’s apartments. He knocked on the door and was unpleasantly surprised to hear Mrs. Peeters’ voice instead.

“Yes?”

Ludwig opened the door and took a cautious step inside. His eyes widened in alarm when he saw Gilbert asleep on the bed, Mrs. Peeters tucking in the covers around him, and he quickly hurried forward.

“What – is he all right?” he asked weakly.

The look Mrs. Peeters’ gave him made him tone down his worry as best he could.

“Of course, dear,” she said slowly. “He’s simply resting. I haven’t the slightest idea what our young lord here was thinking, taking a train in the middle of the night. Although I suppose in a way it’s for the best. You heard about the party this evening, I assume? The High Duke is visiting the manor – only for a few days, hardly long enough to host a party – but decorum dictates we host his arrival in the most modern of fashions.”

Mrs. Peeters’ face was drawn, and Ludwig was all too quick to jump at the possibility for distraction.

“If it’s not too much of an imposition, ma’am, I would like to help with the arrangements,” he said, ignoring the slight tremors of guilt. If he remained occupied throughout the day, Gilbert would hardly be able to corner him into having their fight. While it did nothing to solve any of his long-term problems, he knew that distraction would be the only way to muddle through the day until he could be alone to plan his course of action.

“Aren’t you absolutely exhausted?” Mrs. Peeters asked, peering at Ludwig over her glasses. “You look weary to the bone, Mr. Schmidt. I would love your help, but I must admit I’m slightly worried about the possibility of your collapsing…”

“I rested well last night,” Ludwig said quickly. “Any exhaustion is from dealing with the children. Temporary, I promise.”

Mrs. Peeters laughed and lightly patted Ludwig’s arm.

“I do hope your tone will change when you have several of your own to deal with,” she said, smiling at Ludwig. “But if that is the case, then by all means. The groomsmen are helping Kirkland, but I’m afraid my staff has all been claimed by other areas of need – the number of emergency runs to the station we’ve had to make to pick up supplies – oh if I get going, I’ll never stop. Would you mind terribly being my assistant for the day?”

“Not at all,” Ludwig said, forcing a smile on his face. “Anything to keep me occupied. With my lone charge out for the count and the children likewise napping I find myself in the rather awkward position of having nothing to do.”

Mrs. Peeters gently ushered Ludwig outside after quickly fixing Gilbert’s pillow.

“We shall start with double checking the table settings,” she said cheerfully, a little spring in her step. “And thank you very much, dear. You’ve no idea what a relief your help is.”

“It’s my pleasure, ma’am,” Ludwig said quietly, trailing after the housekeeper.

He followed her for the rest of the day, keeping diligent notes at her request. There were several times when he had to interact with the groomsmen, but Alex and his ever-growing horde of followers remained pleasant enough, save for a few whispers that curiously stopped whenever Ludwig got too close.

Around five o’clock Mrs. Peeters asked him to help fetch a set of new china from the storeroom, and Ludwig was only too happy to leave the crowded dining area and ballroom. The garlands were up and the few oil lamps that remained were lit, casting a cheery glow over the manor that was sadly not reflected by the gloomy winter sky outside.

On his way down to the storeroom, however, Ludwig felt increasingly uneasy. Several times floorboards creaked when they shouldn’t have, and the hair on the back of his neck prickled. When he turned to look, however, the hallway was empty. Of course.

He hurried his steps nonetheless, and when he got to the storeroom he quickly fished out the keys Mrs. Peeters had given him and unlocked it. He opened the door, but before he could step inside he felt an icy hand on the back of his neck. He let out an undignified yelp and started forward, turning around just as a childish voice burst into peals of laughter.

Ludwig slumped against the storeroom door, his hand clutched over his heart, and glowered at Elizaveta. The girl didn’t seem perturbed in the slightest, and merely smiled up at him and waved her fingers.

“You’d be terrible at playing monster,” she solemnly informed him.

Ludwig toned down his glare as best he could and pushed himself up, not in the mood for Elizaveta’s antics.

“What sort of game is that?” he asked, lighting the lamp in the storeroom and then setting about hunting for the proper china. White with gold trim, fluted edges, slight gold design in the middle.

To his dismay Elizaveta followed him into the storeroom, seemingly oblivious to the warped, elongated shadows and odd noises.

“It’s a game where one person is a monster and they have to stalk all the other players,” she explained, peering at a few items on the shelf. “When the monster finds you and catches you, you become a monster too. So you can’t trust anyone.”

“Is there no outward sign that someone’s become a monster?” Ludwig muttered, too busy concentrating to pay much attention.

“No. They look like people,” Elizaveta said, sitting down on a crate and crossing her legs in a rather boyish fashion. “That’s what makes it so scary.”

“I highly doubt you’re afraid of anything, Miss Elizaveta,” Ludwig said dryly, glancing at the girl. After a moment’s hesitation he held out the lamp, gesturing towards a box on the top shelf. “Hold this for me so I don’t drop the nice things.”

“So bossy,” Elizaveta complained, but she hopped off the crate with a little grin and took the lamp.

“When you’re an adult you can be bossy too,” Ludwig said, reaching up to start gently easing the boxes of china off the shelves.

“Technically I already can be bossy to you, since you’re lower than me,” Elizaveta said absently, swinging the lamp a bit.

Ludwig grimaced at the nonchalance in her tone, but continued to work without comment.

The lantern light flickered a bit as Elizaveta danced around the small room, and Ludwig finally had to growl, “Still, Eliza.”

She immediately stopped dancing and stared up at Ludwig, her green eyes narrowed. She waited until the first box was safely on the ground and then piped up, “You’re not afraid of much either, are you. Except for monster.”

“What makes you say that?”

“You talk back to me and Gilbert all the time,” Elizaveta said. “Most people don’t, because they’re afraid of getting fired or yelled at. Uncle says that you’re a bit brazen because you were in the army. He said that men who came back didn’t want to return to their old stations. Is that what happened to you?”

“Perhaps,” Ludwig muttered, setting down another box. He accidentally caught Elizaveta’s eyes, surprised to find the young girl staring shrewdly at him.

“You don’t enjoy talking about yourself, do you?” she asked.

“No,” Ludwig said blandly, reaching up for another box.

Elizaveta let out a little puff of air, obviously frustrated.

“It makes Gilbert sad, you know. That you never talk about it,” she continued, and Ludwig could feel her eyes on the back of his head again, regarding him far too keenly. “He calls it ‘a power discrepancy.’ I told him that was silly, that he obviously has more power than you because he’s going to be an earl someday but he said that it wasn’t the same and that kids wouldn’t understand. And I told him that I’m not a kid and that I understand a lot and he told me to shut up and leave him alone. This was on the train, just so you know, so I couldn’t even go to my room to have alone time. It was horrible of him, I think.”

“Gilbert can be horrible,” Ludwig muttered without thinking, and then fell immediately silent.

To his surprise, when he caught Elizaveta’s expression again, there was a look of childish indignation on her face.

“That’s a mean thing to say about someone you love,” she said challengingly, puffing up her chest a bit and glaring daggers at Ludwig. The absolute fury in her eyes was enough to make Ludwig blanch slightly and pull away, but he recovered and said peevishly, “That would be true if your supposition were the case.”

Elizaveta made a frustrated noise and lightly hit Ludwig’s arm.

“It isn’t bad! Gilbert has said often that you’re very dear to him so it’s only natural,” she protested. “And you should be sweet to people who care about you. It’s very easy to hurt them. That’s why I have to be so delicate with Roderich.”

“That’s delicate? You boxed his ears when he talked back to Gilbert once,” Ludwig muttered, feeling oddly trapped by the girl’s commentary. He reached up to hoist the last box off of the shelf. “And when does Gilbert have time to talk about me? Do you two have a standing appointment?”

“No,” Elizaveta said crossly. “And you’re being sarcastic and mean. I thought you would be happy to know that’s why Gilbert gets so mad at you. It’s better than him getting mad at you because he hates you or because you’re horrid. Although I’m starting to believe that last part.”

That finally made Ludwig falter. He began stacking the china boxes in silence, surprised when Elizaveta set down the lantern to help him. They worked quietly for a few moments before guilt and curiosity made him ask, “He has told you this, though? In as many words.”

“Well… not exactly,” Elizaveta admitted, wrinkling her nose. “He’s so cagey! It’s like trying to keep hold of a garden snake. But there have been a couple nights when he’s visited my room to talk. At first Mrs. Peeters used to get mad but after Uncle said we’re engaged she said it was okay until I turn fifteen for some reason. I don’t understand her rules.” Elizaveta stuck out her tongue at the invisible housekeeper before continuing to speak, her sweet, childish voice lighting up the room enough to make the lantern light pale. “And well, at first I thought it was because he wanted to discuss the engagement. It made him so unhappy… but after a few nights he started to complain about you, and then the complaining turned into neutral stories and then into tales of adventure and then he was a Roman statue for a long time, very quiet and still, but then one day he began to cry and it frightened me so much but he told me not to worry, that he just needed to compose himself before he saw you.” She made a face. “Gilbert is so ugly when he cries. It’s hardly ever happened but his face gets all blotchy and scrunched and he looks like one of those hairless cats… But thankfully he doesn’t do it much. Not like Roderich who cries all the time…”

She sighed and propped her elbows on her knees, looking out through the storeroom door.

“My cousin is too proud,” she said absently. “He’s too much of a lot of things. My uncle used to call his personality obsessive. He would throw himself into his hobbies, insisting he had to be the best at them. He practiced the violin until his fingers bled, he drove us all insane when he was learning the piano or memorizing Scripture or Milton or other plays.” She turned her head slightly to stare at Ludwig. “And now you’re his new obsession. But I told him several times, you aren’t a book or a piano or marksmanship, you have feelings. And at first he would say something brattish like ‘what’s a farmhand need with feelings’ but now he sort of gets this half smile on his face and says ‘I know,’ which is very annoying but also rather sweet. And one time when he said it his hand went to his heart and suddenly he wasn’t there any longer with me, he was off with you having more adventures and I knew then that… that my cousin wished he could always be with you. Even when he’s with me.”

She ducked her head slightly, and Ludwig was dismayed to hear a few forlorn sniffles.

“Oh—oh, Elizavta, I’m sure that’s not true,” he said, awkwardly patting the young girl on the shoulder.

She laughed weakly and lifted her head again, scrubbing at her eyes.

“N-No, it is,” she said, her voice strained with false cheer. “He used to play games with us and to treat me very special. He would go horseback riding with me when no one else wanted to or explore the roof or the grounds or the cellar and when he stopped Mrs. Peeters said it was just because he was a grown up now, but I knew that was rubbish, he’s never going to grow up. He just found a better person to be with than me. And I was so mad that it was a stuffy adult who was too tall and too quiet and I h-hated you so much, Ludwig, I hated that you came and spoiled everything.”

She pressed her hands against her face, her lips still pulled into a smile.

“A-And now… now I’m the one that’s grown up… and he’s so far away from me… He was supposed to take care of me and I of him but now all he does is dote on you and I can’t tell anyone about it because they’ll just say to stop being so hysterical or stop being jealous, that men have these special bonds that I-I’ll never understand and that will be my life. Completely quiet while he has his special bond with other b-boys and I’ll be left to rot in this house…”

Elizaveta let out a horrible sniff and suddenly threw herself at Ludwig. For a moment he thought she was attacking him, but after a moment he realized her small hands were fisted in his shirt and that she was crying bitterly. He carefully eased his arms around her, patting her back as gently as he could.

“I’m so sorry,” he said softly, glancing at the door to make sure they were still alone. “He didn’t mean to abandon you. Even Gilbert isn’t that cruel.”

Elizaveta sobbed harder, the noise a strangled laugh.

“A-And you would know…”

“I do,” Ludwig said, sighing quietly. “I’ve been on the receiving end of a few tirades. I’d like to think I’m well-acquainted with his mean side.”

He fell silent for a long time and let Elizaveta cry. When her tears were reduced to tiny sniffles, he gently pushed her away, putting a smile on his face.

“But you won’t have to be alone for much longer,” he promised her, his tongue ashen. Of course. Another mark in the plus column of the list he was struggling not to make. Gilbert could go back to his old life. To what he was supposed to be.

Elizaveta blinked owlishly up at him, her eyes and cheeks puffy from crying.

“O-Oh,” she stammered. “I… I don’t think I’m alone. Not truly. I have Roderich and Vash and Uncle and Auntie and you and all the house staff…”

“You have Gilbert, too,” Ludwig gently reminded her. “He still cares about you.”

Elizaveta visibly wilted, but after a bit she nodded.

“Logically I know that,” she said softly. “But he so rarely shows it. I’m not… special. Anymore.”

Ludwig shook his head. “You are,” he insisted. “And Gilbert – he will need you very much in the future. So you must promise me you’ll look out for him. Even if it doesn’t feel fair at first. Can you do that?”

Elizaveta pressed her lips together and nodded again, the motion sharper.

“Yes,” she said gravely. “I will.”

A curious look stole over her face after that, and Ludwig was afraid he’d said too much. He quickly gathered up the china, but Elizaveta spoke again before he could insist they leave.

“Do you not care about him anymore?”

Ludwig tensed, his heart in his throat, and glanced down at the girl staring fixedly up at him.

“…I…”

Ludwig faltered, trying to gather enough words into a convincing lie. But the tear tracks on Elizaveta’s face, the slight tremor to her shoulders made him change his mind at the last minute.

“With all my heart I do,” he said quietly, defeated. “And am cursed to always.”

Elizaveta tilted her head to the side, still staring at him before she pushed herself to her feet and took Ludwig’s hand.

“Then it’s silly of me to be mad at you when it isn’t your fault either. Curses are terrible things,” she said decisively, as though trying to convince herself. She tugged on his hand and stared sternly up at him. “But you need to be happier,” she ordered. “That is the wrong kind of face to make, Mr. Ludwig. My cousin will be even angrier if you show up in front of him looking like the farmer just shot your dog.”

“Just shot my—what a beautiful image,” Ludwig mumbled, keeping a tight hold on the young girl’s hand as he led them out of the storeroom. He locked the door behind them and began walking back upstairs.

Elizaveta made a frustrated noise and tugged on Ludwig’s arm.

“Promise,” she said sternly. “You must be happy, Ludwig. Otherwise every book will have lied to me.”

Ludwig gave the young girl a small smile, his heart blackening with the lie.

“I promise.”

Elizaveta gave his hand another sharp tug, almost in warning, and then abruptly left, pattering down the hall towards the servant’s staircase on the east side. Ludwig watched her go and then slowly made his way back upstairs to deliver the china, his steps much heavier.

Mrs. Peeters was flustered when he returned – something about a fruit order not arriving on time – and so he was blessedly sent back to work and made busy enough to keep his mind occupied. Then, at exactly half past six, Kirkland ordered him upstairs to get Gilbert ready, and Ludwig knew he had run out of time. With heavy footsteps he went up the stairs and made his way down the hall. He knocked on Gilbert’s door, cringing at the surly voice that greeted him.

“Come in if it’s you, farmhand. Anyone else can make themselves scarce in the quickest fashion available.”

Ludwig steeled himself and then pushed open the door, closing it behind him. Gilbert was still lying in bed, a book covering his face. He spoke without looking up.

“Lock the door, farmhand.”

Ludwig reluctantly obeyed, but remained where he was.

Gilbert slowly sat up, tugging the book off his face and setting it aside. He stared coolly at Ludwig and then said, “Congratulations on avoiding me all day. Your actions have done nothing but bolster my confidence in our relationship.”

“You can’t really blame me,” Ludwig muttered, still refusing to move.

“Yes I can,” Gilbert said sharply, standing up and moving to plant himself in front of Ludwig when the older man refused to move. “I can and I do blame you, you worthless coward. You craven, miserable waste of breath.”

Ludwig wanted to argue, but every counter-point was pathetically weak and insubstantial, so he remained silent, averting his eyes.

Gilbert stared up at him, his lips pulled back in a sneer.

“As I thought,” he muttered, moving across the room to crawl back into bed. “If you’re just going to stand there like a worthless statue, farmhand, you can go freeze out in the garden with the rest of them.”

“Would that make you happy?” Ludwig asked quietly, a bitter note to his voice. He was slowly losing his ability to read the atmosphere in the room. First with Eliza, now this. He felt detached, as though he were watching a play of him and Gilbert fighting. He knew he should feel sorry for the protagonist, for Gilbert, that this horrible antagonist was keeping something so important from him, but the most he could dredge up was a dull feeling of dislike.

Gilbert pushed aside the covers to stare at him, aghast.

“Yes, farmhand. Yes that would make me happy,” he drawled, his voice trembling slightly. “I want nothing more than for you to freeze to death as a silent, useless waste of life and not tell me a damn thing after you’ve been keeping a horrible secret from me and refusing to talk and leaving and acting more like a spoiled child than I ever have! I want you to continue avoiding me to the point where you die from it because nothing would make a horrible demanding monster like me feel more satisfied!”

Gilbert was yelling by the time his little tirade was done, and even from across the room Ludwig could see him shaking. He took a hesitant step forward, wanting to comfort the young lord, but faster than he could almost track Gilbert was in front of him again, a finger jabbing his chest and two furious eyes staring up at him.

“Don’t. You dare,” he hissed. “Don’t you fucking dare try and look sympathetic in front of me. You should be crawling on your hands and knees begging for my forgiveness, you should be talking to me, apologizing, saying anything at all before you dare take another step forward.”

“I’m sorry,” Ludwig said quietly, the apology a gut reaction. “Gilbert, I’m so sorry, what can I do to—”

He winced as the young lord grabbed him by the shirt and slammed him back against the wall, and in a brief flash of disjointed surprise he wondered when, exactly, Gilbert had become tall enough and strong enough to do that.

“You can tell me what the hell was in that letter!” Gilbert yelled, and Ludwig was sure the younger man was going to hit him. “You can tell me why you left and not just throw around ‘sorry’ like it’s the only word in the English language your thick skull can retain!”

“I can’t,” Ludwig said desperately, not knowing what else to do if Gilbert wouldn’t accept his apology. “I’m so sor—I can’t, Gilbert, it’s my burden to handle –”

Gilbert made a noise of fury and cocked his fist, but rather than striking he suddenly shoved Ludwig back again and took a step away, holding his hands up in surrender.

“Fine,” he said quietly, his voice shaking. “Play the martyr, Ludwig. It suits you.”

He turned around and headed over to his wardrobe, opening the doors and picking out a suit.

Ludwig watched the young lord work for a moment and then moved to help him, but his hand was pushed away.

“I will no longer be requiring your services,” Gilbert said evenly, his back still pointedly to Ludwig. “With this or our depraved relationship.” He gathered up the suit pieces and began to lay them out on his bed. Ludwig remained by the wardrobe, too numb to even move. Gilbert finally lifted his head and Ludwig took a hopeful step towards him, only to have those hopes dashed when Gilbert said calmly, “You’ll need to leave, Mr. Schmidt. I don’t like having the help around while I am changing.”

Ludwig felt the words twist in his gut like a knife, and he reached out to steady himself on the wardrobe. A brief surge of desperation overtook him, and he moved forward again, mouth open to beg, to plead with Gilbert, ready to accept whatever blows or cruel words the young lord could devise.

But when Gilbert lifted his head again to fix him with a prompting look, there was no trace of his Gilbert there, and it stopped Ludwig cold in his tracks.

“Mr. Schmidt. If you please.”

Ludwig took a step backwards, anger and panic and shame and guilt all vying for dominance of emotion. His training took over, then, and he merely bowed and said quietly, “As you wish, my lord,” and left.

The latch of the door clicked into position behind him and he rested against the oak surface.

It was hard to breathe. A cathedral worth of stones on his chest and his mind too panicked to even process movement. The same word looped in his brain, the word ‘wish’ for some bizarre reason, repeating over and over again until his lips were miming the word.

Wish. Wish wish it sounded so strange the longer he said it, a foreign word a complete unknown.

Ludwig pressed his hands against his face, his fingers digging into his skin as he tried to keep himself together. The letter his father Gilbert so disgusted with him Alex’s sneering face the whispers Elizaveta’s cries. It was too much for a single day, too much for his nerves to take for his brain to process fully before the next menace was heaped upon him.

He felt himself shudder and fall to the floor, his breathing in choked gasps.

He didn’t know what to do.

For the first time in his life uncertainty was all that stood before him. A looming edifice, pocketed by thousands of doors. When he’d lived at home, Eldrich’s presence a constant, his brothers’ bruises and his own their entertainment, his course of action had been clear. To leave. In France, in India there were always orders to follow. To kill. To burn, to heal. Even here in the beginning, Kirkland’s instructions had been a guide. To assist, to serve, and now there was nothing but thousands of doors. For the first time the decision rested with him, solely with him, and he was breaking from the weight of it.

The floorboards shook and he quickly stood, pulling himself together out of a desire to save face more than anything. He had to stay standing. Standing and moving until he was alone and then he could let the cracks in his head widen and peer into whatever was lurking in their depths.

To his dismay it was Roderich who rounded the corner, and the boy looked likewise irritated to have come across him. Ludwig gave Roderich a polite nod, mildly annoyed despite everything when all he received in return was a little sneer.

“I see you still have nothing better to do than to pine outside my cousin’s room,” Roderich said with a little sniff. “If you’d heard the things he said about you on the train I don’t think you would want to be anywhere near him.”

“And good evening to you as well, Roderich,” Ludwig muttered.

“That’s Lord Roderich to you, you disgusting oaf. Even a dog learns faster than you,” Roderich snapped, stopping in front of Ludwig. He’d started to hit his growth spurt, and his head now reached halfway up Ludwig’s chest. He seemed to regard the older man’s height as a personal insult from the way he drew himself up even taller.

When Ludwig remained silent Roderich took another step forward.

“Aren’t you curious about what he said?”

“Not really, my lord,” Ludwig replied evenly. “I have enough of an idea.”

“Hmph. You’re as dull as you are stupid,” Roderich muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m glad Gilbert hates you now. Maybe he’ll get a valet that isn’t a lumbering idiot with insane delusions about his station and an inflated sense of self-worth.”

“Did you need something, Lord Roderich, or are you merely practicing wasting breath on needless insults?” Ludwig asked politely, silently glad for the distraction. Roderich was fueling his anger which was helping drown out the rest of his turbid emotions.

“I have half a mind to go to my uncle now and tell him exactly what kind of a man you are,” Roderich spat, his pale cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “You didn’t even sleep in the servant’s quarters. My uncle would be horrified if he knew.”

Ludwig’s eyes narrowed and he took a step forward, staring down at the boy.

“Please, Lord Roderich. Go ahead,” he said quietly. “Tell your uncle whatever you want. Tell the servants who have been whispering things into your ear to do the same. Tell Lord Gilbert whenever he emerges from his room to join in the calumny. I am beyond the point of wanting to understand or abate your childish vendetta. Just leave me in peace.” He inclined his head slightly. “I bid you good day.”

He pushed his way past the boy, ignoring Roderich’s slight noise of confusion. Just as he turned to head down the stairs he heard the door to Gilbert’s room open, and a soft voice begin to question the boy. The brief bit of hope he felt was quickly smothered when he caught sight of Alex at the foot of the stairs, a hyena’s grin on his face.

“Dear oh dear. The language they allow you to use,” the man said with a sad little shake of his head. “To one of his lordship’s own offspring. It’s astounding.”

Ludwig didn’t even spare the groomsman a glance.

“Piss off, Alex.”

He ignored the man’s unsettling chuckle and continued to make his way towards the kitchens, needing Mrs. Peeters to give him another job. He could feel himself unraveling at the edges, the thread still caught in the door upstairs leading to Gilbert’s room. Every step pulled more and more until he was left with nothing but a frayed end to hold onto.

He found Mrs. Peeters just as he was about to snap. He heard himself ask for more instructions and quietly followed them without question. He ignored the rest of the staff whenever they approached him and focused on making every holly garland perfect. When a job was complete he returned to Peeters’ side and quietly asked for another. She obliged with less and less cheer every time, until finally she pulled him aside and said gently, “We’re done, dear. There’s nothing left to do but wait until he arrives and take your place in line to greet him.”

Ludwig stared at Mrs. Peeters, not understanding for a moment.

“N-No,” he stammered. “There has to be something. Anything, please, I’ll… I’ll muck out the stables, I’ll help the gardeners with the burnings I’ll do anything.”

“Those jobs are a bit below your current pay grade, dear,” Mrs. Peters said softly. “You’re a valet. It wouldn’t do to have guests see one of those closest to the family outside knee deep in filth.”

“I don’t care – ma’am, I’ll stay hidden, please just give me something to do,” Ludwig said desperately.

Mrs. Peeters’ eyes widened slightly and she rested a hand against Ludwig’s forehead.

“Oh my – you’re burning up,” she said in mild alarm. “Please go rest, Mr. Schmidt. The family will understand that you can’t attend the welcoming.”

Ludwig’s blood ran cold at the thought of being alone in his room and he said quickly, “No, no I’m fine, please. I’ll – I’ll rest once everyone is settled, but until then please just let me work.”

Mrs. Peteers worried at her bottom lip and then let out a little sigh.

“All right, dear,” she said quietly. “Why don’t you stay with me? We can go check in on the kitchens together and you can help carry the wine and decanters, so long as you promise to be very careful.”

Ludwig gave the housekeeper a grateful look and followed after her like an obedient dog. He stood silently in the kitchen while she checked on all of the dishes, the scullery maids and other kitchen staff giving him odd looks that he barely took notice of. He brought up the wine and decanters as instructed, but then Kirkland came sweeping into the room like a hurricane, barking orders at people and ushering them all towards the front of the house.

The rest of the family was already gathered there on the steps, and the servants carefully took their places, lining up on either side of the walkway to welcome the guests. Ludwig stood at the end of the line with Kirkland, Mrs. Peeters, and the earl’s valet. He kept his eyes straight ahead, listening to the automobile approaching and the crunch of gravel as the duke alighted from the coach. He bowed along with the rest of the staff, listening to the family’s warm yet distantly polite greetings. He caught a strain of Gilbert’s voice, and the normalcy of it was enough to make him begin to shake, so much so that Mrs. Peeters reached over to take his hand, giving it a little squeeze. She probably thought him weak from the fever, and it was an excuse Ludwig was going to hold to. The duke was complimenting Gilbert and the young lord was bantering lightly with him, eliciting a laugh from the family and the duke alike. When Ludwig finally straightened up at Kirkland’s silent order, he caught a glimpse of the family heading inside, all dressed in their finery with the duke keeping an even pace with them.

For just a moment they were frozen in time. The picture of a perfect aristocratic family. All of them beautiful and handsome, their clothes perfectly pressed, not a thread out of place. They were happy and carefree, the earl gently clasping his lady’s hand and his son and niece and nephews behaving like perfect miniature adults, coiffed and proper and distant. They were oil against the imposing backdrop of the manor. Roped off by velvet and marble stairs, and Ludwig found that he could not recognize a one of them as individuals. They bled together, symbols of a dying, antiquated class that soon would be extinct, existing nowhere but in a museum, carefully stuffed and labeled.

A loud peal of laughter sounded out, and the image broke. The doors to the manor shut behind them, leaving the staff alone outside.

They quickly filed into the servant’s entrance, all but Ludwig. He stayed behind, staring at the doors and truly wishing for the first time that he had been born among their ranks. It wouldn’t have saved them. Shame sullied the upper castes as much as threat of imprisonment and death did the lower. Two very different endings, each with the power to inexorably alter a life.

But still he yearned for it. To brush arms with a duke, to catch a hand under the table where even if the servants saw they would be too terrified to speak up against two lords. To be able to go and come as he pleased, to make his rooms next to his, to be able to sleep in with him in his arms, listening to the birds outside, to go hunting and summering in France and America where it could be only the two of them as one by one the servants rebelled against their station and left them blissfully alone.

He was the weakness in their chain. Concatenate with disgrace.

“Mr. Schmidt.”

Ludwig glanced over his shoulder, somehow unsurprised to see Kirkland there.

“Yes,” he said quietly. That was his name, after all.

Kirkland took a few steps towards him, his shoes crunching in the gravel.

“Mrs. Peeters tells me you are unwell.”

Ludwig turned to stare at the door again, trying to conjure up the picture of the family again. Had Gilbert really been smiling or was it one of his fake ones he practiced in front of the mirror that made Ludwig laugh? Were his clothes still pressed without his help, was his hair neat enough were his shoes polished, his tie straight. Did he still carry that bitterness in his voice or was it already forgotten. Youth was so quick to recover by erasing. Learning later in life the pain again, unable to connect it with an earlier time when it was much fresher and so rotted away all the more easily.

“Yes, Mr. Kirkland,” Ludwig said very quietly, still staring at the door his class was barred from. “I am afraid I’m not at all myself today.”

“How macabre,” Kirkland said dryly. “And how incredibly obvious.”

Ludwig felt a light hand against the small of his back, and he followed its direction without question.

“To the serving hall, Mr. Schmidt. If you wish to remain occupied then I will indulge you. I’m correct in assuming your infliction is not contagious, yes?”

Ludwig could only nod and follow the butler’s silent orders, and soon found himself standing quietly in the waiting wings along with the groomsmen and maids. They cast him wary looks, but kept their comments to themselves, too intent on listening to the spirited conversation just on the other side of the doors. The family was regaling the duke with all sorts of stories, mostly from when Gilbert had been a child, and the affectedly humiliated cries of the young lord were making everyone laugh. The servants remained stone-faced, waiting anxiously for Mrs. Peeters or Mr. Kirkland to signal the next course. Serving a duke carried a number of risks, and none were brazen enough to make light of it.

Ludwig stood back behind them all, holding things when he was instructed, but thankfully both Peeters and Kirkland were smart enough to keep him out of sight of the company. He stood still for the entire duration of dinner, listening to the voices beyond the door, trying to discern emotion in their words. But they were flat with propriety, and Ludwig soon gave up.

It was several hours before the family finally adjoined to their respective studies for after-dinner coffee and brandy, and Ludwig was ushered forward to help with clean up. He found himself with his sleeves rolled up and elbow-deep in dirty dish water before he really registered what was happening. He was grateful for the distraction it allowed him all the same. The scullery maids were mystified by his presence, but once it became apparent he was not gunning for their jobs (the thought of which struck Mrs. Peeters as incredibly hilarious for some reason) they resumed their chatting, and Ludwig was thankful that if they had any rumors about him they kept them to themselves.

By the time the last pot was scrubbed and dried it was well past midnight. The maids made Ludwig a cup of coffee in thanks, and he drank it with only a small amount of reluctance. The caffeine would keep him up, but since he had been dismissed from his position as valet (informal though it was), it was unlikely he would have to wake up early the next morning. The family was going into town to show the duke the hospital and school they had recently commissioned, or something along those lines. This meant the manor would be blissfully devoid of family, and Ludwig was looking forward to it with as much enthusiasm as he could muster.

His stomach let out a horribly loud growl, and he realized it had been hours since he’d eaten. Or had he even eaten. He vaguely remembered Mrs. Peeters offering him some bread and cheese but he couldn’t remember if he’d accepted it.

He slowly leaned forward and let his head rest against the table, listening to his intestines shift as they clamored for food. One of the maids returned, complaining about having to go rebuild the fire in the duke’s room, and Ludwig was quickly on his feet.

“I’ll do it,” he volunteered, and the desperate note in his voice must have been enough to startle the girl into agreeing. He took the coal shovel and pail and quickly made his way upstairs, glad to have a distraction.

The moment he set foot on the first floor landing, he heard laughter coming from one of the sitting rooms, followed by a light trill of piano keys. He recognized the delicate touch. Despite himself his steps slowed, and he came to a stop in front of the door. Through a crack he could see the whole family and the duke and several of the other guests he had brought along with him crowded around the piano. Gilbert was seated on the bench, his cheeks flushed with either pleasure or embarrassment and a little grin playing around his lips.

“It really is too cruel of you to mock my singing, sir. We’ve only just met,” he said in an affronted voice.

An unfamiliar laugh rang through the air, and Ludwig watched as the duke leaned forward to pat Gilbert’s shoulder, the gesture one of easy camaraderie. 

“There’s no shame in it. You’re woefully talented in every other aspect, from the sound of it. God had to grant you a fault or else we would begin to suspect there was a preternatural creature in our midst.”

Gilbert’s ears turned scarlet and he ducked his head, stammering out a flustered reply, and Ludwig felt his heart slowly break.

He recognized those motions. The shy elation when someone granted him even the slightest bit of attention or praise. The capricious nature of his lips, fighting back a smile or an embarrassed grimace, changing in an instant as his ego warred with itself. Quiet, dear little gestures that he had catalogued and memorized and strove to engender whenever he possibly could. That he’d thought were special, had come to be reserved for him.

Gilbert was so young. And the young healed with bitter ease.

Ludwig took a step away from the door, his chest feeling as though it had been meticulously shredded. He stared down at himself, his clothes covered in soot, his fingers stained from coffee, the calluses on his palms standing out, white little mountains that would forever condemn him to this. Lingering outside a room in which he did not belong. Even when the scene beyond was nothing more than a museum display, it would still be partitioned off by glass. The stuffed figures unreachable. Chronologically and specially out of touch.

Gilbert would learn the truth and he would recover. There were others like him out there, not every love he would find would end in tragedy or farce. There would be some like the Spaniard, where emotions simply flickered out, no explosion or cataclysm necessary. And there would be ones that stayed, content publically with their bachelor lives and content more so privately with one another.

Ludwig felt his legs begin to move, carrying him towards the guest apartments once more. The pail in his hand was heavy, numbing his fingers. He shifted it automatically to the other hand, too intent on not spilling any coal dust to pay any mind to the other staff fluttering about until a delighted voice reached his ears.

“Mr. Schmidt. Goodness, does Mrs. Peeters have you doing all the girls’ chores now? Have you no sense of pride or self-worth?”

Ludwig glanced up towards the ceiling, where Alex was perched on a ladder, a dust cloth in his hand. Ludwig eyed the ladder, judging its weight and the height before he decided that a little maiming would not be worth the repercussions. He continued on, his hand tightening around the pail handle when he heard the groomsman slide down the ladder, his steps soft against the carpet. Alex continued to trail him like a malodorous shadow, and there was utter glee in his voice when he spoke.

“Although learning what sort of man your father is explains so much. Too bad his genius skipped a generation,” the groomsman said idly. “Is it because he never loved you that you started, how shall we say… searching for comfort elsewhere? These psychological traumas are all the rage now. I think it’s a fair question. He does seem rather emotionally distant, although as we saw in the kitchen today that distance does not extend to the physical.” Alex laughed, the noise too loud in the hushed upstairs. “Tell me, Mr. Schmidt, how did it feel to be beaten by an old man?”

“This is not appropriate upstairs conversation,” Ludwig said quietly, Alex’s words taking a toll on his already weakened psyche. “If you would not mind waiting until we are alone –”

“Alas, I must do my job and continue to serve our guests this evening until they retire,” Alex said with a little sigh. “If only I had such a useless position as yours, I might never know the meaning of the word work. I must say I nearly had a heart attack when you stood in the back with us for the entire duration of dinner rather than retreating to your rooms as usual. Tell me, Mr. Schmidt, why on earth would that habit of yours changed?” He let out a quiet gasp. “Oh dear. Has there been some trouble between you and the young master? Is your position ripe for the taking?”

His smile turned sly and he moved a bit closer to Ludwig, his voice dropping to a murmur. “You must indulge a curious man, Mr. Schmidt. Do you think he would spread his legs for me too if I were his valet? We all know about his little fling with the Spaniard. If he is willing to disgrace himself with a foreigner and a field worker I can’t imagine he’d be able to put up much of a defense if a real man bedded him. And from what his former valets have told me he is a feast for the eyes. Still retaining the curves of youth. Do you picture him as a girl or is that too difficult a task when he is so slovenly whoring himself out for –”

Ludwig carefully set down the coal pail, turned on the ball of his foot, and slammed his fist into Alex’s face. For one wild moment he thought the man’s nose had exploded and felt a dark, grim satisfaction take hold of him. He watched with detached interest as Alex stumbled back, blood streaming down his face and two black eyes already blooming on his face. Ludwig shook out his hand, picked up the pail, and continued to walk, ignoring the curses of pain and rage coming from behind him.

Until Alex tackled him.

Ludwig quickly dropped what he was carrying to tug at the arms wrapped tightly around his throat. Alex clung to him like a vicious leech, his fingernails digging into the skin of his neck deep enough to bleed. Ludwig slammed his back against a wall in desperation as his vision started to turn spotty around the edges. The force was enough to dislodge Alex, but the groomsman quickly threw himself forward again, his fist making contact with Ludwig’s face. Stars exploded before him and he braced himself against the wall, trying to recover, but Alex didn’t give him a chance. The groomsman slammed his foot into his knee, sending him stumbling to the floor, and immediately beset him again, his fists and nails wreaking havoc on Ludwig’s face. Ludwig was too stunned to fight back.

From down the hall came a loud yell of alarm, and a moment later several other groomsmen appeared and pulled Alex off of him. It took considerable effort to wrestle the berserk man and by the time they were separated Ludwig was also sporting black eyes in addition to a split lip, horribly boxed ears, and bleeding welts on his throat. His head was ringing so loudly he couldn’t hear anything, for which he was grateful the moment he pushed himself shakily to his feet and spotted Kirkland hovering around the periphery of the crowd. The butler regarded the commotion with the same disgusted detachment he reserved for inspecting the toilets, and a hush fell over the small group when he took a step forward.

“May I ask what you two think you are doing?”

Ludwig and Alex both stood silent, the latter nursing his nose with a handkerchief.

Kirkland raised an eyebrow.

“Is dumbness a side effect of your little outburst?”

“He attacked me, sir,” Alex suddenly blurted out, his voice nasally and muffled. “He turned around and hit me square on the nose.”

“It’s true,” one of the other groomsmen piped up, nervously wringing his hands. “They were just talking and Mr. Schmidt suddenly belted him.”

“Talking?” Kirkland repeated, glancing at Ludwig, but he remained silent. Alex, however, was only too happy to talk.

“We were just talking about the possibility of his position being opened soon,” he said quickly. “I saw him carrying the coal pail and we all saw him helping the scullery. I was only asking about his status of employ, sir.”

Kirkland continued to stare at Ludwig.

“Is this true, Mr. Schmidt?”

Ludwig lifted his head, wiping at his bleeding lip before he spoke so it wouldn’t drip on the carpet.

“It isn’t false,” he said quietly, keeping his eyes fixed on the floor. “But as I am sure you are aware, sir, Alex has an uncanny ability to tell the truth while keeping all of the essential nuances hidden.”

“Slander on top of physical assault, I cannot believe this!” Alex exploded, wincing as his nose bled harder. “Sir, he should be dismissed immediately for—”

“Sadly it is not in my power to dismiss a valet of his standing,” Kirkland said calmly, clasping his hands behind his back. “I will report this to the earl, and he will hear both of your cases in the morning before the family leaves for the village. This incident will in no way impact the family’s enjoyment of the day, and the details of his incident will remain confined to those gathered here. Is that clear?”

When all the assembled did not immediately nod in agreement, Kirkland narrowed his eyes. Instantly every head was bobbing as though possessed, and he finally said a quiet, “Very good.”

He turned towards Alex. “Retire to your room at once. If I hear word that you have discussed this with anyone besides your Lord God, I will see to it that you are never afforded the chance to spread your gossip again. Is that clear?”

Alex shot Ludwig a dirty look, but then nodded and muttered, “Yes, sir,” before turning to leave.

Kirkland glanced at Ludwig and then waved his hand to dismiss the rest of the staff. They slowly trickled off one by one until the butler and valet were left alone. Kirkland took a little step forward, holding out his hand. When Ludwig finally lifted his head he saw that the older man was offering him his handkerchief. He took it with a quiet word of thanks and pressed it against his lip.

The two stood silent for a moment until Kirkland said mildly, “I am assuming it was a discussion about the person your position serves rather than the position itself that elicited such an extreme reaction.”

Ludwig’s hand trembled, but all he said was a subdued, “I still attacked a defenseless man, sir. Regardless of what or whom he was slandering, my actions are not irreproachable.”

“If one of the staff is slandering a member of this esteemed family, I’m not sure your actions were sufficient, if I may be brutally honest,” Kirkland said dryly. “This estate has been nothing but kind and good to me, and were I slightly less of a gentleman or a bit more courageous I can think of several situations where I very well may have defended it in a similar manner.”

“But you are a gentleman, sir. And hitting an unarmed man is in no way courageous, if you don’t mind my speaking out of turn,” Ludwig said quietly, his whole body aching from the beating he’d just taken. He swayed slightly on his feet, and was surprised when Kirkland quickly moved forward to help him sit in a nearby chair.

“Something tells me you threw the first punch and none after that,” Kirkland observed, stepping back and dusting off his jacket. “I have never seen an Army man in a fight with a layperson come out so terribly bloodied.”

“It’s something of a blur. You’ll forgive me if I cannot recall it exactly,” Ludwig said quietly, tilting his head back to rest against the wall and closing his eyes. He could feel unconsciousness prying at the edges of his mind, and a light slap against his cheek did little to keep them at bay. He heard Kirkland shake out his hand and sigh, and then the man’s stern voice instructing him, “Don’t move, Mr. Schmidt. And for the love of God don’t sleep either. The last thing we need is a concussed valet on our hands.”

“I’m not a valet anymore,” Ludwig mumbled without thinking, his speech slightly slurred. “Gilbert said… I was dismissed…”

The hallway grew so quiet he was sure Kirkland had left, until the man’s reedy voice said irritably, “The day that boy’s actions make any kind of logical sense is the day I resign my post, for clearly the end times will be shortly following and what is the point of meeting one’s maker as a butler.”

Ludwig listened to Kirkland’s retreating footsteps, barely audible over the pounding in his head. He tried to open an eye to make sure he was alone, but he simply could not muster up the energy to do so. He remained still for what felt like ages, fighting off sleep by lightly touching the stinging wounds on his neck every so often. Still it was a losing battle, and just as darkness was beginning to cloud his mind he heard a quiet noise and felt the floorboards creak underneath his feet. A strong arm wrapped against his shoulders, and a voice said softly, “One foot in front of the other, farmhand, just – no, that’s both your feet, use one at a time please you’re very heavy.”

He obeyed the voice without question, walking slowly in the direction he was guided. A familiar scent of apple blossoms and cedar made him laugh quietly, the movement enough to split his lip again. He knew it was merely a delusion. The concussed mind struggling to dredge up something that would force him to hold on and fight away unconsciousness. He felt the illusion sigh and the arm around his shoulders tighten.

“Two more steps, farmhand. Stay with me…”

He stumbled over the last step, and a string of curses made him slowly open his eyes. He struggled to focus on the floor, the vague shape of a door and handle in the periphery of his vision. A hand that was not his pushed it open, and he was none-too-gently laid down on his bed. His feet were brought up as well, and deft fingers began untying his shoes.

“Thank you, Kirkland. That will be all,” the voice said quietly.

“Should I inform your father of your whereabouts?”

“No, thank you,” the voice said again, tugging off the first shoe and letting it fall to the floor. “Discretion is appreciated.”

Ludwig finally managed to force open his eyes again and saw Kirkland standing in the doorway of his room. The butler caught his gaze and raised an eyebrow before saying mildly, “Your patient is still conscious, my lord. Please ensure he remains so.”

“I know, Kirkland, it did register the first three times you told me,” the voice said irritably. “You may go. And thank you. For fetching me.”

“It seemed the best course of action, my lord,” Kirkland said politely, inclining his head a bit. “I will make sure you are left alone.”

The fingers tugging on Ludwig’s sock fell still, and the voice said very quietly, “Really though, Kirkland. Thank you. I… I don’t know what I would have done.”

“Continued to cry, most likely,” Kirkland said bluntly. “Good night, my lord.”

The door clicked shut behind him.

Ludwig slowly lifted his head, the slightest movement making the world spin. He glanced down at the foot of the bed, and his blood ran cold when he saw that it was Gilbert tending to him. The young lord’s face was drawn and he wore a harried expression that quickly evened out when he realized he was being stared at. He rolled his eyes and pushed roughly against Ludwig’s chest.

“Lie down, farmhand. God, the simplest things,” he muttered, yanking off Ludwig’s other sock. Ludwig closed his eyes as two blankets were thrown over him, but opened them again just in time to watch Gilbert retreat into the small bathroom. He remained silent until the young lord emerged again, a basin of water and wash cloth in hand.

Gilbert sat down in a chair next to the bed, dunking the washcloth in the water. Before he could do anything more, though, Ludwig reached out and rested his hand against the young lord’s wrist. He licked his lips, the coppery taste of blood giving him a bit of clarity through the fog.

“You don’t… you don’t have to do this,” he said quietly. “It’s no more than I deserve.”

A look of fury crossed the young lord’s face before it was tempered. He pushed aside Ludwig’s hand and muttered, “You deserve a lot of things, farm hand, but I’m not sure being beaten into unconsciousness by anyone but me is one of them.”

Ludwig opened his mouth to protest but Gilbert stuffed a washcloth into his mouth before he could get one word out. He spat it out immediately but remained silent while Gilbert wetted the other cloth and rested it over his eyes. The cold cloth brought immediate relief, and Ludwig let out a little breath, his head still reeling. He wanted to ask why Gilbert was there but he knew that would probably only provoke the young lord into more acts of light violence. He listened to Gilbert shuffle about the room for several minutes until finally the young lord spoke up again.

“You’d better not fall asleep, farmhand. I reserve the right to hit you if you start to display any signs of an impending coma.”

“It’s appreciated,” Ludwig said quietly, tensing a bit when he felt the bed dip as Gilbert sat on the edge.

“Your room is pathetically drab as always,” Gilbert muttered after a moment. “I’m glad to see the tips I gave you about how to make it a bit more welcoming fell on deaf ears.”

Ludwig merely nodded, not wanting to say ‘sorry’ again and risk Gilbert’s wrath.

The two fell silent again before Gilbert suddenly peeled aside the washcloth to glower down at him.

“…Aren’t you going to ask me why I’m here?” he said, a bit of a challenge to his voice.

Ludwig felt his lips curl up in a smile he did not feel, and heard his voice, light with pain say softly, “I know why.”

He felt his eyes sting and heard Gilbert’s quiet noise of alarm.

“Farmhand – for God’s sake you can’t go from being so pathetically self-satisfied to lachrymose in a heartbeat, I can’t keep up,” he muttered, but there was a note of alarm in his voice.

Ludwig felt slim fingers entwine with his own, and he held on desperately as black started to prick at the edges of his vision again. He glanced up at Gilbert, the young lord’s face a distorted, freakish mass of gray and tan and red.

He tightened his hold on Gilbert’s hand, swallowing around the lump in his throat.

“I have to tell you something.”

Gilbert’s eyes narrowed, but he held on to Ludwig’s hand.

“…Yes. I think you do.”

Ludwig let out a little breath, his fingers digging into Gilbert’s skin enough to make the younger man wince. But he never pulled back.

“I have to tell you something… about my father…”


	23. G(a)rrotte

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i lied. as i do.
> 
> THIS is the penultimate chapter. for real this time.
> 
> thank you all so much for your continued support! enjoy the crippling angst and despair.

“I have to tell you something… about my father…”

Gilbert’s expression fell from intensely curious to confused in a matter of seconds.

“Your father,” he repeated slowly, staring down at Ludwig. “…I don’t think now is the best time for a genealogy lesson –”

“Gilbert, please,” Ludwig said tensely, having to fight every second to keep from simply throwing in the towel and coming up with another elaborate lie.

Gilbert pursed his lips but said nothing further.  
Ludwig let out a slow breath, closing his eyes so he could pretend he was just talking to himself. The pain was making it difficult to concentrate, and he knew he had to speak quickly or there was a very good chance he would pass out or lose his nerve.

“His visit here is what dragged me away from you,” he said quietly. “I had no idea he would be able to track me down. I spent years… years of my life trying to escape. I fled as far as India to get away from him, and still he found me.”

He started when he felt cool fingers against his forehead, and quickly opened his eyes to see Gilbert looking abashed.

“Sorry,” the young lord muttered. “Force of habit.”

“…It’s fine,” Ludwig said, wishing he could ask Gilbert to dispense with the awkward hesitations but knowing he had no right. He let out a slow breath and continued speaking, his words losing their luster more and more with each that left him.

“As I am sure you have guessed, my father is not a man whose company I relish keeping,” he said clinically. “He is not kind or decent, and by the age of five I wasn’t kind or decent either. My brothers, thank god, saved me. My half-brothers, I suppose I should say. Their mother was a good woman and imparted some of that goodness to them.” His lips twisted up into a bitter smile. “My own mother, I am sorry to say, was every bit as depraved as my father. The two of them ruin lives with a simple word spoken at an opportune moment. They buy information and use it, among other machinations, and they wanted me to grow up to do the same. I believe it was difficult for them to picture their legacy dying out.”

Ludwig fell silent again, surprised. The admission had done nothing to assuage his guilt or ease his troubled, onerous mind. Instead it simply hung above his throat. A Damocles sword whose string Gilbert could cut whenever he wished.

“Why are you telling me this?”

The soft words broke through the quiet he’d erected, and Ludwig opened his eyes to stare up at Gilbert. The young lord’s face was pinched, his eyes cold as he stared down at the older man.

“If this clinical divulgence has anything to do with what – with why certain things transpired between us, I will have to ask you to stop now,” he said, his voice shaking very slightly. “If this has all been an elaborate hoax then I would rather not know, I would rather live in ignorance—”

Ludwig’s eyes widened when he realized how his confession must have sounded, and without thinking he pushed himself up.

“No!” he exclaimed, and then let out a little groan when his injuries protested the sudden movement. He lay back down, a thin sheen of sweat covering his skin, his hand still holding onto Gilbert’s as tightly as possible.

“It isn’t that,” he said weakly, ashamed when he felt his eyes begin to smart again. “It could never be that, I could never do that to you…”

He stared pitifully up at Gilbert, searching for some sign of recognition or acknowledgement in the younger man’s face.

Gilbert was silent for a very long time, staring at a small spot of water on the sheets before he grabbed the bowl and washcloth again and resumed tending to Ludwig’s wounds.

“You are a terrible actor,” he said, his voice betraying no emotion. “Your father chose his successor poorly.”

Ludwig winced as the cloth pressed against a sore spot on his head.

“…So that is what redeems me in your eyes? My lack of thespian skill?”

Gilbert’s eyes flicked down to focus on Ludwig’s face for a moment before he said calmly, “I don’t recall expressing sentiments of redemption or forgiveness. You have yet to link this current narrative with your selfish actions these past two days, and while I am certainly able to make the connection myself I—”

Gilbert speaking with the same detached arrogance he reserved for the rest of the help made Ludwig start to break again. “Please don’t,” he begged, the pain rending what little pride he had left. “Treat me with all the disdain you can muster but don’t treat me like I’m not even worth that.”

Gilbert’s lower lip trembled and the cloth stilled on Ludwig’s forehead.

“Tell me the rest of the story, Ludwig,” he said, covering Ludwig’s eyes with his hand. “I will decide how I can afford to treat you when I hear the end.”

Ludwig looked up through the darkness to the little bit of light that crept in from underneath Gilbert’s hand. He could see the shallow lines in his soft palm and bitterly wished he were a soothsayer so he could read its designs.

“What more is there to tell?” he said, his head throbbing as the wounds were cleaned. “As you pointed out you are more than capable of drawing conclusions yourself between that story and my actions. He found me, somehow, and he wants me to be the villain he thinks I am. And if I cannot… if I fail, then he is more than willing to take on that role.”

“You said he works in information,” Gilbert said after a long pause. “For once this is not meant as an outright offense, farmhand, but you are not that interesting. I am not that interesting, to be fair, save for—”

The young lord fell silent, and Ludwig could hear the pieces falling into place inside Gilbert’s head.

“He knows.”

Ludwig gave a single nod.

“He does.”

Ludwig felt a slight pressure against his chest, and when he lifted his head he saw that Gilbert had hunched over, resting against him. He sat up completely, and Gilbert moved with him, pillowing his head in his lap.

Ludwig’s fingers trembled with the anxiety of indecision for a moment before he carefully carded them through Gilbert’s hair. Neither spoke for quite some time, and Ludwig was grateful for the silence.

Without warning Gilbert suddenly stood and made his way to the door, and for a heart wrenching moment Ludwig thought he was going to leave again. But all the young lord did was dim the lamp before shrugging off his jacket, laying it on Ludwig’s chair. Ludwig watched him warily, moving immediately when Gilbert sat down on the bed.

“Did you want me to leave, o-or…?” he stammered, unsure what Gilbert was doing. The younger man gave him a flat look and pressed a hand against his chest, pushing him back down onto the bed.

“You need to rest,” he muttered, lying down as well. “But not too much. Awake, please, but still.”

“I—all right,” Ludwig said quietly, not knowing what else to do but comply. He lay completely still in the dim light, struggling to stay awake. He turned his head to the side, staring at the back of Gilbert’s neck. The earl’s son was curled up on the very edge of the mattress, his back to Ludwig and his shoulders too tense for him to be really asleep. He was close enough for Ludwig to see him breathe, to see his fingers quiver against his ribs and hear the distant beating of his heart.

Ludwig carefully rolled onto his side, his muscles aching with fatigue, and it was that singular exhaustion that made him part his lips and ask softly, “Am I truly no longer your valet?” Gilbert had said his services were no longer required, and even though Alex, his father, his meeting with the earl the next morning should have taken precedence, it was his foremost thought.

He saw Gilbert tremble, felt the bedsprings shift as the young lord stirred, and a moment later red eyes met his, weariness dulling their color.

“No, Ludwig,” Gilbert said very softly, resting his hand carefully on the back of Ludwig’s head and pulling him close to rest against his chest. “You have not been my valet for a very long time.”

Ludwig closed his eyes, Gilbert’s scent and warmth making him almost drift off, but the words were enough to give him a mordant hope that stayed off sleep.

They lay like that, completely still for hours until gray light began slipping through the cracks in the shutters. Ludwig listened to the rest of the house beginning to stir. The chattering of the maids, the smell of the morning’s bread drifting up from the floorboards, the distant clinking of china as trays were carried through the downstairs towards their upper destinations.

After a few moments Gilbert sat up, carefully pushing Ludwig away. Ludwig could feel the young lord’s eyes on him, and, unable to endure the scrutiny unchecked, opened his eyes.

Gilbert folded his hands in his lap, the picture of noble tranquility.

“How is your head?”

“It feels as though it’s been ripped off and left to rot somewhere in the woods,” Ludwig said dully, wincing as a beam of light caught him across the face.

“It looks about the same. You should avoid making contact with any of the gentler sex today. They will either faint immediately or act as I imagine Eliza will and attempt to put you out of your misery.”

Gilbert arched his back, stretching. Ludwig watched him carefully, noting the dark circles under his eyes.

“Did you not sleep?”

“No,” Gilbert tersely replied. “I told you I wasn’t going to, and behold. I keep my word.”

He fell back against the pillows and stared up at the ceiling.

“God above,” he quietly swore, running a hand over his face. “What are we going to do?”

Ludwig frowned slightly and carefully pushed himself up. He winced when he caught sight of himself in the mirror hanging on the opposite wall. His lip was caked in dried blood, his eyes were both swollen to the point where it was a miracle he could see out of them at all. His nose, thankfully, was still straight, but his face was that of a mercenary who had lost a fight. Not that of a servant in a respectable household.

“’We’?” he asked, tugging at his hair to try and keep himself focused.

“Yes. Plural pronoun – do I really have to explain the rudiments of grammar to you?” Gilbert asked, sitting up again. He glared at Ludwig, his red eyes darting around to catalogue every injury on the man’s face.

“I am growing quite tired of you acting as though I have no agency of my own, farmhand,” he said brusquely. “I am still horribly cross with you, but my poshness dictates that I express that anger with decorum. If I were also the son of a miscreant it would have been me you were exchanging blows with yesterday rather than some useless patsy of a footman.”

He clicked his tongue in mild annoyance.

“It’s a miracle we won the last war at all. If you were at the helm, all the Germans would have had to do was wave around threats of eternal social disgrace and damnation and you would…cave…”

He fell silent at that, a slightly troubled look on his face before he slowly tipped over, resting his head against the pillows. Ludwig watched him guardedly, unsure how to react to the tirade. Gilbert seemed to have suppressed some of his vitriol during the course of the evening, but Ludwig wasn’t fool enough to act as though no unpleasantness had occurred between them. He met Gilbert’s eyes for just a moment and the young lord frowned.

“…What are we going to do, I ask again?” he said, his tone bitter. “And don’t you dare object to my pronoun usage there, Ludwig. I’m not leaving you to handle this yourself. You’d become all dark and morose and adopt a defeatist attitude that will land you in the wastelands of Siberia someday and the cold simply doesn’t agree with me.”

Ludwig opened his mouth to do just that, but then slowly closed it again. He lay down next to Gilbert, resting his head on the pillow as well so that his nose was practically touching the younger man’s.

“I don’t know,” he said honestly, pressing his fingers to Gilbert’s lips when the boy scowled and looked as though he were ready to protest. “I’ve been thinking about it all night and every scenario I’ve concocted ended… poorly.”

Gilbert turned his head to dislodge Ludwig’s fingers, his features still twisted into a pout that in a few years would be transformed into a haughty, condescending glare.

“You probably only came up with two,” he muttered. “At the most three. But Ludwig, there are a thousand possibilities. Your father could be bluffing, he could give up, Alex could get run over by a carriage—”

Ludwig’s expression immediately darkened at the mention of Alex, and an angry growl forced its way past his lips. There were several choice things he wished he could say about the man – most of them based on how he’d talked about Gilbert and less to do with the injuries on his face – but he didn’t want to sully Gilbert’s ears.

The young lord raised an eyebrow nonetheless and then said mildly, “Oh dear. Still carrying a torch of hatred for him?”

Ludwig let out a puff of air and closed his eyes, the change in topic to something more concrete than their uncertain future a welcome reprieve.

“He said very unkind, untrue things about you that made me desire to see him more dead than alive,” he muttered. “He talks about you as though you were some common whore and not the nobility he’s sworn to serve. And he degrades your body with his… talk.”

“Degrades my – good God, what did he say?” Gilbert asked, sounding only partially alarmed. The other part was a bastard mix of horrifically curious and mildly amused.

Ludwig fell silent for a moment, grateful for the renewed liveliness in the boy’s tone but unwilling to be frank about what had transpired. “Something about your. Posterior. I was in too much of a rage to bother to make a note of what exactly it was he said.”

Gilbert fell silent after that, and Ludwig opened an eye to glance over at the young lord. Gilbert was looking more thoughtful than anything, although a light flush played about his cheeks. Ludwig’s expression darkened and he subtly moved a bit closer to Gilbert.

“Relax, if you would, Ludwig,” Gilbert said absently, still staring off into space. “There’s no need to smother me or mark me like an anxious lapdog piddling on the sofa. I’m not about to go all hot in the nethers over some footman being perverse. He has a little weasel face, anyway.”

“Then why are you blushing?” Ludwig grumbled, doing his best to not sound accusatory, but it was difficult when Gilbert was looking so distracted.

“Because you said the word ‘posterior’ and it was endearing despite my irritation towards your person. Now quiet.”

Gilbert’s expression turned serious a moment later and he sat up again, fixing Ludwig with a steady gaze.

“As for our previous topic of conversation before we were so horribly derailed, there are more than two options, Ludwig, I’m sure. If Alex is attempting to bait you by slandering me in front of you, then it means he is more or less confident in his theories regarding us. Especially considering you tried to murder him over that little bit of calumny. Your father is a wildcard, whether or not he has proof, so for now I say we keep our heads down and attempt to oust Alex from the house.” He scowled, his fingers picking viscously at a loose thread in the comforter. “Alex has been with my family since he was in his teens. I know arithmetic can be challenging, so I will take the liberty of informing you that you have not worked here since your teens, which is less time. You have not even worked here for a full year, and so Alex, although slimy and terrible, has the temporary upper hand insofar as credibility goes.”

Ludwig fell silent at that, the anger slowly leaving him. He let out a heavy sigh and carefully sat up as well.

“Surely your father knows he’s slimy and terrible, though,” he said quietly, glancing at Gilbert. “I would very much hate for you to forgive me and then have that rat whisper something else that makes me fly off the handle and jeopardize us all over again.”

“He’s been made mildly aware of it, but he’s only ever interacted with the man in a very formal setting where decorum makes it nearly impossible to accurately judge anyone’s character,” Gilbert said, making a little face. He tapped his fingers in a rapid staccato against his knee and then said lightly, “And I do not recall allowing you access to my private thoughts. You were not supposed to know of my grudging forgiveness yet, so I will kindly ask that you forget in order that I might pleasantly surprise you later in the day. Or week, depending on how generous I’m feeling.”

Ludwig felt a sudden surge of relief, and his expression must have reflected that singular emotion for Gilbert flushed horribly and pressed a pillow against Ludwig’s face.

“Stop it, farmhand,” he muttered. “Stop it right this instant. I still want to be mad at you for being such an underhanded little snake earlier.”

“My apologies. I will attempt to be more morose than necessary,” Ludwig said quietly, allowing himself to enjoy the freedom Gilbert’s forgiveness allowed. He knew he had acted horribly, like the snake Gilbert accused him of being. At the moment he was simply too grateful for Gilbert’s forgiveness to flay his conscious any longer. But the anxiety was still there, festering under the balm of Gilbert’s words. He knew their situation was nearly hopeless, and he was still paranoid that Gilbert would soon look at him like he would a stranger and see only a cold neurosis. They had no plan, no way out of this and Gilbert had every right to be furious with him still. He was simply too exhausted to feel the panic to the full extent he had the day before, and remembering the gentle hands that had tended to him and the press of his cheek against a bony shoulder was enough to keep it further suppressed for the time being.

But there was a time limit. Tangible to them both.

The pillow was slowly lowered and a pair of light red eyes peered at him over the top. The two fell silent and quietly regarded one another. Gilbert was the first to break.

“Aren’t you going to demand one from me?”

Ludwig raised an eyebrow and then hissed with pain. Stupid. His eyebrows were attached to his face, which still felt (and looked) raw.

Gilbert snickered but then cleared his throat and said diplomatically, “An apology, farmhand. Neither of us were at our best, and while you are clearly more in the wrong with all your secret keeping I may have. Been a bit. Histrionic. To the slightest degree higher than was called for.”

“That you are sitting here, willing to converse with me, is proof enough of your sincerity,” Ludwig said, no trace of humor in his tone. “I do not require anything else.”

Gilbert blinked in surprise and pulled back, his brow furrowing for just a moment before he laughed quietly and looked away.

“Very intense. I should expect nothing less,” he murmured.

Without warning he pushed himself to his feet and moved to Ludwig’s wardrobe to begin rifling through it. Ludwig watched the younger man and managed to catch the clothes that were thrown at him.

“These have to be pressed, you know,” he said, unsure what sort of manic mood had taken the younger man but too weary to fight it.

“I’m afraid I’m unable to play valet for you this morning, farmhand. I can’t risk getting caught down here again. Kirkland’s influence can only turn away so many eyes,” Gilbert said over his shoulder, grabbing his jacket as he headed towards the door. “I will do my best to talk my father into an agreeable mood at breakfast so that your meeting afterwards will go smoothly, but we cannot expect miracles.”

“Gil—”

Gilbert continued speaking as though he hadn’t heard the interruption. Ludwig let out a resigned sigh and let Gilbert continue talking.

“Unfortunately the duke’s presence complicates things,” Gilbert mused, tapping his fingers together.   
“You know about the party tomorrow, I’m sure, and it falls on my shoulders as always to make sure that the man is entertained and while I admittedly enjoy the extra attention it doesn’t leave much time left for plotting.”

“Plotting?” Ludwig asked, once he was sure he could get a word in edgewise. “What sort of plotting?”

Gilbert let out a quiet ‘hm?’ and turned to glance at him, one eyebrow raised and his lips pulled down into a solemn line.

“How to get rid of them, of course,” he said evenly.

He immediately smiled again and then said, “Put your shirt on, Ludwig. There’s a good man,” before he opened the door and disappeared without another word.

Ludwig let out a little sigh and then slowly pushed himself out of bed, moving to the bathroom. He examined himself in the mirror once more. He dabbed at his eyes, contemplated shaving before abandoning the idea after common sense kicked in. His face was so molted with bruises it was impossible to see stubble anyway.

After a few painful minutes of wrestling with his suit, he was finally dressed and presentable enough to make an appearance downstairs, at least. He left the safety of his room and made his way down to the kitchens. The maids he encountered ducked their heads as they passed by, and the kitchens immediately fell silent when he entered. He could feel eyes on him as he retrieved his breakfast, and he sat alone in a corner to eat, doing his best to ignore everyone. Half of the stares were admiring, the other half mutinous. He focused on keeping down as much food as possible and mentally prepped himself for his meeting with the earl.

One of the bells on the wall suddenly rang – the downstairs West study – and a moment later Kirkland’s reedy voice sounded from the door.

“I believe that is for you, Mr. Schmidt. I will see to your things.”

Ludwig quickly stood along with the rest of the staff to greet the butler, and inclined his head slightly.

“Thank you, sir,” he said softly, and then moved as quickly as he could towards the stairs.

He kept to the servant’s hallways as much as possible, not wanting to alarm the family with his disturbing appearance. When he arrived at the study he found it thankfully empty, and allowed himself a moment’s composure. The room was still half-lit by the oil lamps, the dim light of dawn doing little to illuminate the space. Ludwig realized with a start that it was the same room he had first met Elizaveta in, all those months ago. His eyes were drawn to the chaise lounge she favored, and despite the pain he smiled, ever so slightly. If only she could inherit the estate proper. Things would be so much easier.

The door leading out to the main hallway opened, and a moment later the earl stepped inside, closing the door behind him immediately. He walked to stand in front of Ludwig, and the younger man straightened up as best he could. The earl examined his face in silence, and Ludwig kept his eyes fixed on a point just over the earl’s shoulder.

After an age the earl took a step back, a grim look on his face.

“…Alex looked worse,” he finally said, his lips twitching up into the ghost of a smile. “You’ll forgive the boorishness of what I am about to say, but as a fellow Army man I am glad you gave better than you got.”

Ludwig relaxed very slightly, clasping his hands behind his back.

“Thank you, sir,” he said quietly. “But blows exchanged in public are nothing to be proud of, no matter the final score. If you do not mind my speaking so boldly.”

“Not at all,” the earl said with a quiet chuckle, taking a seat and gesturing for Ludwig to do so as well. “It is that boldness that I find both appealing and frustrating about you, Mr. Schmidt.”

Ludwig slowly took a seat, unsure how to properly handle himself. He had been expecting a rather firm reprimand, if not to be let go completely, and yet the earl was, for some reason, complimenting him.

The door opened again and Kirkland stepped inside, carrying a tray with tea and a few other breakfast items on it. He set the tray down on the table in between the two men and then addressed the earl.

“Will that be all, my lord?”

“Yes, Mr. Kirkland, thank you,” the earl said graciously, patting his front pocket. “I have your testimony here. There is no need for you to stay.”

Kirkland bowed very slightly.

“Very good, my lord,” he said politely, his green eyes darting to the side to fix on Ludwig for a moment before he stood up straight. “And might I request, my lord, that you do not detain him overly long? I have my own business to settle with Mr. Schmidt before we begin the day’s duties.”

“Of course, Mr. Kirkland. When have I ever disappointed you on a scheduling front?” the earl said with a light wave of his hand that was so charmingly reminiscent of Gilbert that Ludwig found himself fighting to keep the surprise off his face.

“Was that an actual request for enumeration, my lord, or were you merely being flippant?” Kirkland asked dryly, raising a thick eyebrow.

The earl laughed. “I should know better than to attempt to get the better of you on that account. Will I ever learn.”

“Unlikely, my lord,” Kirkland drawled, bowing once more. “If you will excuse me…”

The butler turned on his heel and left, but not before giving Ludwig one last little glance over his shoulder.

Ludwig tensed at the warning look, his nervousness returning. He had spent time with the earl before, of course, but never in a situation where the focus had been solely on him. The earl learned forward to make himself a cup of coffee, and Ludwig was startled when the cup was offered to him instead. He took it with a gracious, “Thank you, my lord.” He rested the saucer in his lap, unsure where to look or how exactly to act.

“You needn’t look quite so stiff, Mr. Schmidt,” he earl said, making up another cup of coffee for himself. “You are here more as a formality than anything. Alex was very adamant that you are a danger to others, but I believe I am right in assuming that the only person you are a danger to is him.”

“That is correct, my lord,” Ludwig said quietly. “We have some fundamental disagreements that are not worth dredging up in your presence.”

“Fundamental disagreements?” The earl laughed. “You mean the fact that Alex is after your job and has been since you were hired. I don’t suppose it gets much more fundamental than that.”

At the explanation Ludwig relaxed and sipped his coffee. If his position was what the earl thought the dispute had been over Ludwig would be only too happy to encourage that misassumption.

“He hasn’t been quiet about it, my lord, that much is true,” he said quietly. “My only concern is my temper. I am ashamed to say it has a tendency to get the better of me at times.”

“A curse of our sex, Mr. Schmidt. It’s a rare man that can keep his composure when his pride is on the line,” the earl said, a sympathetic smile on his face. He sipped at his coffee, and Ludwig fell silent, unsure of what to say. He knew the earl was a kind man, but to admit so openly to his own flaws and forgive those of an inferior so readily… the man was difficult to read.

Ludwig’s thick fingers toyed with the delicate china resting in his lap, and finally he could take it no more.

“May I ask you a question, my lord?”

The earl raised an eyebrow.

“Certainly,” he said, his voice pleasant. “I cannot guarantee that I will answer it, however.”

Ludwig let out a slow breath, his eyes fixed on the coffee in his lap.

“I am afraid I do not… understand you,” he said haltingly. “I was merely one of your farm workers and yet you hired me. You believe me over someone who has been working with you for years and who was undoubtedly born above my station. You entrusted your heirs to me, you have such seeming confidence in my goodness even when I do not.”

Ludwig lifted his head, a stricken expression taking hold of him.

“What do you gain from all of his, my lord? I cannot see the benefit in it for you.”

The earl’s lips twitched up in a ghost of a smile, and he hummed softly under his breath. The tune was one Ludwig recognized. Gilbert would hum it on occasion as well when he was puzzling out an arithmetic problem or an especially difficult translation passage.

“Your fundamental error, Mr. Schmidt, is assuming I want to gain anything.”

The earl lowered his cup again and met Ludwig’s eyes, the small smile still on his face.

“The times are changing. Quite rapidly, and I can only assume they will continue in this vein,” he continued, his deep voice calm. “Manors and estates like this will be broken up eventually. We simply do not have the resources to continue to support so many. I will do my best to keep this place afloat, and I know that my son loves it enough to do the same once he has taken my place, and thankfully we can afford to love it. It is not difficult for a man of my station to be generous, Mr. Schmidt. It is easiest for us of all, for we have so much to give we would not suffer much for its loss. And yet in my travels I have found more and more the opposite to be true. That those who have truly understood the suffering of those without are far more inclined to give, and that men of my station are more likely to assist their wealthy peers rather than those of a different social stratum. It is forced empathy that moves their hands to their pocketbooks. Or so the cynic in me would like to assume, but I do not think it is anything as simple as that.”

His eyes narrowed very slightly, and the corners of his mouth turned grim.

“I know you have seen it, just as I have. When men die, the only difference their wealth and station makes is in the kind of wood used in their casket and how much their relatives squabble over what they accumulated in life. I value tradition and strive to uphold it, but I do not think that doing so requires me to conform to outmoded conventions of thought. I saw in you a bright, upright man, and wished to see you maximize that potential in an environment that encourages such growth. You may not feel it, being nearly thirty, but you are still young, Mr. Schmidt. I could not sit by and let that talent gather dust in the fields. It would be neither Christian nor humane of me to do so.”

The earl chuckled and tapped his fingers against his cup.

“Lest you think me too charitable, however, I feel the need to add that I also considered you and your training an investment. Kirkland will not be here forever, and when Gilbert inherits the estate he will need members of staff he can trust. If I may pat my own back, I seem to have made a wise choice. He has taken quite a shine to you, and I hope that the two of you continue to foster a pleasant relationship.”

A small frown took hold of the earl’s features, and he let out a quiet sigh.

“When I was serving in France I suffered a singular fear that my son would not learn from our mistakes and would merely follow blindly in the footsteps I left for him. Gilbert and his future are… everything to me. Absolutely everything. Were something to jeopardize him I am afraid I would act as you did with Alex. But seeing how friendly he is with you, how readily he confides in you and nurtures your intelligence and how warmly he treats the staff now… some of those fears have been assuaged. His future and the future of this estate are bright. I know that now.”

Ludwig swallowed heavily and took another drink of coffee to settle his nerves. Alex’s accurate impression of him and the earl’s conflated one were so incredibly at odds with one another. And yet this man, of such a high station, trusted in him despite mounting evidence to the contrary. Ludwig knew the earl wasn’t a fool. He had most likely contacted his old officers and asked of their opinion of him. He knew about the night terrors and the residual fear that lingered in his brain as it did every former soldier, and Ludwig knew that the earl had to have heard about the suspicions of several of the officers. Not even the most horrible one that lingered constantly in his paranoia now, but the one that haunted most men back from the front. The bombs in the night that shook the floor.

“You – you must have had at least some reservations in trusting me, my lord,” he had to ask, his hand shaking before he rested it on his knee. “I am hardly a saint.”

“There were several rumors about your lack of mental stability following the war, yes,” the earl admitted, stirring more sugar into his coffee. “And Kirkland mentioned that your father was a bit… dogged when he came to visit, which I must confess raised several flags. There have been a few instances where a servant in this house has attempted to elevate their family’s station through coercive means, but I heard you handled him well enough and the man himself does not appear as relentless as I had feared. More than anything, though, it is your service that has proven you a valuable asset. It is an honor to name you a member of this house’s staff. At times I wish I could name you more, but…” The earl laughed. “”The times are not moving that quickly, I’m afraid.”

Ludwig bit his tongue, wanting to ask what exactly the earl had meant by that. But before he could properly formulate his thoughts the man spoke again.

“If it’s not too much to ask, Ludwig, I would like to invite you to the party we’re throwing tomorrow evening for the duke. Gilbert gets along with him wonderfully, more or less, but I believe the duke’s presence is a bit… stifling for him. He has done enough to regale the man. Your presence would give him a much needed out and would hopefully deter the duke from – harassing is such a strong word. From occupying Gilbert, we’ll say.”

Ludwig’s face went pale.

“I—you… wish me to attend?” he asked slowly. “Not serve, but—”

“As a guest, yes,” the earl said, a small smile on his face. He pressed a finger against his lips. “Discretion, though, if you don’t mind. It’s rather unorthodox and I expect my wife will be a bit alarmed at having the staff mingling with a duke, but I have seen you comport yourself in higher company before. You will be there as my son’s guest, not mine. Just to be clear. And hopefully this will make it quite clear to certain members of staff that your position is a secure one.” The earl’s expression turned serious. “I hope I do not have to remind you that fist fighting in the halls is not proper conduct. It won’t happen again.”

“No, my lord,” Ludwig automatically replied, still in a daze.

The earl’s smile returned, and he stood, clapping Ludwig on the shoulder.

“Good man. Finish your coffee and then see what Kirkland needs. And try and reduce the swelling as much as possible before tomorrow night. I’m sure one of the girls would be more than willing to help you with a bit of concealing powder or whatever magic they use.”

The earl picked up his coffee cup and drained it before setting it down again and moving towards the door. He paused, his fingers on the handle.

“I really cannot thank you enough, Mr. Schmidt. If I must be perfectly honest.”

Ludwig stood up, his stomach in knots.

“My lord?”

The earl turned around, his hands in his vest pockets.

“I am sure I have mentioned before that my son has not always been so agreeable,” he said, his tone mild. “I can only attribute his sudden maturity to your influence, since no other factor in his life has changed. You are a superb valet, and I hope, in time, the two of you may even become friends. Eliza seems to adore you as well, and know you will serve their house well when they are wed.”

He nodded very slightly, and then with a pleasant, “Good day, Mr. Schmidt,” left the room.

Ludwig remained standing, staring at the door for nearly a full minute before he slowly sat down. He stared at his cup of coffee and then pressed his hands against his face.

He was a monster.

On top of everything else, he had to live with the guilt of deceiving the earl. The man who had given him everything he now held dear. His job, his station. Everything that had saved him, driven away the demons of his time in service. He’d shown him compassion, camaraderie, respect. Nothing that his class was said to have deserved the earl gave willingly and genuinely. He trusted him despite everything working against him.

And Ludwig was fucking his son.

Ludwig clutched at his hair, his eyes wide but unseeing as he remained on the couch. He distantly heard the door open, and a moment later Kirkland’s reedy voice.

“Mr. Schmidt, if you’re quite finished –”

The butler stopped, and Ludwig lifted his head.

“Yes,” he said quietly. “Sorry – my apologies.”

Kirkland raised an eyebrow.

“You look quite unwell, Mr. Schmidt. Are you up to your usual duties today? The family is visiting the village, and there are several things we will need to tend to in their absence.”

“Yes,” Ludwig replied, standing up. He swayed slightly on his feet, and Kirkland reached out to steady him.

“We shall keep you off of high ladders for today,” he said dryly. “How does inventory taking sound?”

Ludwig gave the butler a slight nod.

“Fine, sir.”

“Wonderful. I appreciate you playing along as though you had a say in the matter.”

Kirkland ushered him out of the room and put him to work cataloguing food and supply stock. The kitchens were sweltering as the staff hurried to make as many of the dishes for the next day’s party in advance, and Ludwig had to take several breaks outside just to breathe. Around dusk he heard the roar of the engine that signaled the family’s return, and the kitchens began to prepare for supper. Ludwig helped where he could, but lacking any sort of culinary talent, found himself mostly in the way. He resumed the more tedious stock work until, to his surprise, the bell for Gilbert’s room rung. He quickly reported to Kirkland, who dismissed him from his duties, and went to the upstairs. Before entering Gilbert’s room, he quickly checked his reflection in one of the looking glasses hanging in the hallway, and was relieved to see that the swelling in his face was down, although the discoloration remained.

He knocked on the door and Gilbert’s sharp ‘come in’ quickly ushered him inside. He closed the door behind him and was met with an exhausted Gilbert. The young lord caught his gaze, a scowl on his face.

“Farmhand. Never. Make acquaintances with a duke.”

Ludwig gave Gilbert a weary smile and motioned for him to turn around. Gilbert did so after a bit of grumbling, and Ludwig helped the young lord take off his coat, hanging it up to be brushed.

“What did this duke do that so offended you? And do I need to ask the kitchen staff to spit in his dinner?” he asked quietly, moving back to Gilbert’s side. He lightly pressed his thumbs against the young lord’s shoulder blades, and after a bit of resistance Gilbert gave in, melting into the touch.

“He is without a doubt the most ego-centric person I have ever had the displeasure of meeting,” Gilbert grumbled, rolling his shoulders to encourage Ludwig’s massaging him a bit more. “He would not let me get a word in edgewise, which, as you know with me, is a grave sin.”

“Very grave,” Ludwig quietly agreed, brushing the hair off the nape of Gilbert’s neck. “How could he possibly be as interesting as you?”

Gilbert laughed and tilted his head back, fixing Ludwig with a little grin before his serious expression took over again.

“I am sure I will complain about him more later. But you met with my father, yes?”

Ludwig nodded and began helping Gilbert undress to change into his dinner clothes.

“I did.”

“And you talked?”

“We did.”

Gilbert fixed him with an exasperated look.

“Farmhand…”

Ludwig gave Gilbert a tired smile and knelt down to unlace his shoes.

“He forgave my gross transgressions against Alex and then spent the remainder of the time saying things that I am sure were designed simply to make me feel like the most wretched man possible.”

He heard Gilbert suck in sharp breath.

“He fired you? Or berated you – that isn’t like him at all—”

“Quite the opposite, actually,” Ludwig quietly interrupted, setting Gilbert’s shoes aside and tilting his head back to stare up at the young lord. “Your father’s opinion of me is staggeringly high. He wants me to stay on as your valet even after you inherit the estate. He said—”

He let out a quiet laugh and leaned forward, pressing his face against Gilbert’s stomach. The younger man made a confused noise, but rested his hand on the back of Ludwig’s head.

“You’ve nothing to feel guilty for, farmhand,” he said firmly. “You’ve committed no sin alone.”

Ludwig let out a quiet groan, the guilt weighing on him more unbearably than before.

“He praised our relationship,” he said softly. “That I was such a good influence on you. I wish – God I wish he had simply sworn at me or threatened to fire me, it would have given my conscience the lashing it deserves.”

He felt Gilbert sigh heavily, and a moment later the young lord knelt to meet his eyes, an unimpressed look on his face. He reached out and pressed his hands on either side of Ludwig’s head.

“You knew when we started this that we were going behind his back. Did you care then?”

Ludwig bit his lip but then slowly shook his head as much as he could.

“Do you regret that that was necessary in order to further our relationship?”

Ludwig hesitated longer but then finally shook his head again, a quiet ‘no’ leaving his lips.

Gilbert huffed and then lightly pinched Ludwig’s ear.

“Then stop. My father is a good man, you feel horribly for taking advantage of his kindness. This is talk that should be reserved for the confessional. Nowhere else. Certainly not me. I will die of boredom if you lament to me one more time. And it isn’t –” Gilbert faltered for a moment, his expression falling. “It isn’t… as though I don’t have those same feelings. I know it’s wrong to hide it but what choice to we have. It won’t be forever. I will inherit the estate and then we can go off somewhere as I have proposed before. The only danger is if he finds out before then.”

Ludwig let out a slow breath, Gilbert’s words calming him.

“You are content to never tell him?”

Gilbert waved his hand dismissively.

“On his deathbed or otherwise moribund I will let him know. My only real concern is what will happen with Eliza, but –”

He looked momentarily pained and then let out a tiny sigh.

“One problem at a time.”

He smiled at Ludwig and lightly punched his shoulder.

“Better?”

Ludwig was still for a long while and then shook his head.

“No,” he said quietly, butting his forehead against Gilbert’s. “I don’t know if I can continue to hurt your father like this. He has been so kind and good to me, and lying to him makes me feel so unbelievably wretched. But one thing at a time. As you said.”

“Farmhand…”

Gilbert sounded utterly exasperated, but with a little breath dismissed the conversation.

“Well, you will come around eventually. And look, your constant, crushing guilt has helped my anger abate slightly so it isn’t all bad.” He narrowed his eyes. “Although we do need to come up with some sort of plan to get Alex fired. It will be easy enough to keep your father away if I plant a few unsavory rumors in my own father’s ear, but Alex is the inside man. A much more difficult vermin to oust. And to make matters worse he has a good number of the staff on his side. I asked Mrs. Peeters whom he keeps company and she gave me about ten names. If they are dull enough to withstand his odious presence, they are dull enough for him to easily manipulate.”

Ludwig smiled weakly and brushed the back of his fingers against Gilbert’s cheek.

“You’re not angry?” he asked timidly, unable to keep the hope out of his voice.

Gilbert stared at Ludwig for a moment, calculating, and then snorted.

“I try and plot and you cannot make it past the second sentence. Why did I ever choose you for a sidekick.”

“Plot is important,” Ludwig murmured, his nose bumping against Gilbert’s. The young lord let out a heavy breath and returned the little nuzzle.

“Your powers of concentration are nothing short of inspirational,” he grumbled. “Meanwhile dinner is in an hour and I am still incredibly dusty from the drive. If we are determined to put our nefarious but entirely justified plotting on the backburner, might I suggest we make better use of our time?”

Ludwig frowned and pressed his nose against Gilbert’s shoulder, sniffing.

“You don’t smell dusty.”

“Wh—don’t smell me like you’re some dog in heat!” Gilbert laughed, pushing at Ludwig’s chest. “Composure, farmhand. Even a modicum.”

“I can’t help it,” Ludwig said softly, unwilling to let Gilbert go. “This has been one of the worst weeks in my life, and my threshold for ‘worst’ is incredibly high. We have a few blessed minutes alone and I haven’t been able to hold you since we returned from London. Just allow me this, Gilbert.”

Gilbert fell silent and pillowed his head against Ludwig’s chest.

“If I am late for dinner whom am I to publically blame? No one would believe my perfect valet would be so lax in helping me dress.” 

“I would much rather they think that then have them think me a valet who is too eager to see you without clothes entirely.”

Gilbert laughed and nuzzled the hollow of Ludwig’s throat.

“Touché.”

They remained like that for some time, silently drinking in the others presence before Ludwig finally, reluctantly, let Gilbert go. He patted the young lord’s shoulder and let out a laugh when a cloud of dust did indeed emerge from Gilbert’s clothes.

“Whatever happened to make you so incredibly untidy?” he asked, his fingers deftly undoing Gilbert’s buttons. “You’ll need a bath before dinner after all. Imagine what your family or the duke would think if you sat down and stirred up an entire desert.”

“We had a bit of car trouble when we were in town,” Gilbert grumbled, shrugging out of his shirt. He battled Ludwig’s hand away when the valet started to help him out of his trousers. “I can undress myself, farmhand, thank you.”

He headed into the bathroom to do just that, and Ludwig followed him, sitting on the edge of the tub to draw the bath. Gilbert’s bathroom was one of the few that had been refitted with such elaborate plumbing, and he was incredibly grateful he did not have to call a maid to bring up buckets of hot water like he had to for Vash and Roderich’s room.

“Forgive me for attempting to do my sham of a job,” he said, reaching out to lightly bump his foot against one of Gilbert’s bare calves. The young lord snorted and rolled his eyes.

“Sham of a job indeed. But back to my important whinging, we had car trouble. I was absolutely astonished. Lovino may be a hot-tempered idiot but he is a hot-tempered idiot who is completely and irrevocably in love what that damn machine. He was absolutely livid when it broke down. His cursing was unbelievably colorful, I’m quite sad I wasn’t able to understand a word of it.”

Ludwig frowned and dutifully closed his eyes when Gilbert pressed his palm against them. He heard the young lord slide into the water.

“Your continued modesty is just as amusing to me,” he murmured, grabbing Gilbert’s hand and pressing a tiny kiss to the sharp bones in his wrist. Gilbert squirmed just a bit, the water in the tub sloshing around, but then said loftily, “You were adamant that you were doing your job. As even this goes far beyond the limits of decorum with regards to your station a bit of discretion does not go amiss. And I’m all dusty and disgusting. I don’t want you looking at me when I’m hideous.”

Ludwig laughed and knelt down next to the tub, propping his arms on the rim. He lightly splashed water at Gilbert.

“I suppose. And I cannot imagine Lovino in such a temper. The man is unpleasant enough as it is. Were he not a complete misanthrope I imagine he would be all too willing to join Alex in his crusade against me. Instead he simply chooses to hate everyone equally, which is honestly a blessing.”

“It was utterly terrifying,” Gilbert agreed, cupping water in his hands and letting it trickle out through the cracks in his fingers. “It was even worse when some random passerby was able to fix it. Father was grateful but I think Lovino will do everything in his power to put a hit out on the man.”

Ludwig frowned slightly, something nagging in the corner of his brain.

“A random passerby?”

Gilbert nodded and relaxed against the back of the tub.

“Yes. An older man – I was surprised he knew anything about automobiles at all, but he found the problem and fixed it. Gratis, even.”

Ludwig relaxed. Gratis. In the past it had never been gratis. The numerous times when he’d had to crawl underneath carriages to dislodge a wheel or loosen a few screws. And when would the man have had time to learn about automobiles. He was in no way rich enough to have access to one.

But still. It worried at a little corner of his brain.

He grabbed the facecloth and soap and began lathering it.

“What did this man look like? The car expert.”

Gilbert hummed in thought and tilted his head back.

“I wasn’t too interested in him. He was just an old man. He did have glasses, I think. Blonde hair – a bit graying in places.”

He wrinkled his nose.

“He was very large, though. He had trouble fitting underneath the car. Father was incredibly worried he’d—”

Ludwig sucked in a sharp breath, and Gilbert turned to glance at him, puzzled. When he saw the look on Ludwig’s face, however, his expression quickly changed to one of concern.

“What is it?”

Ludwig caught Gilbert’s eyes, his mouth set in a grim line.

“That was my father.”

Gilbert blinked.

“…How can you be certain?”

Ludwig shook his head and reached out to begin washing Gilbert’s arm, moving the cloth as gently as he could.

“I scraped my knees many times when I was young helping him pull off similar heists,” he said quietly. “The description matches. The only thing that does not is his lack of reward. Which means –”

“He has a long term gain in mind rather than immediate,” Gilbert said, closing his eyes. He clicked his tongue in exasperation, but Ludwig could feel him trembling.

“Damn it…”

“As long as he stays in the village we’ll be fine,” Ludwig said quietly, trying to be as reassuring as he could. “You can go to your father tonight or tomorrow morning and warn him.”

Gilbert turned to face him, his face pinched with worry.

“But if I do that, then –”

“Then your father will know exactly the sort of lineage I come from,” Ludwig gently interrupted, giving Gilbert a tiny smile. “He has forgiven me so much already, and Kirkland can vouch for my intense dislike.” He laughed and leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Gilbert’s pointy nose.

“In fact… this may be just the thing we needed,” he said, his optimism growing. “He played his hand too early – we now have enough to cast doubt on him, and doubt is all that is needed. His schemes hinge on people trusting him completely and unfortunately he is charming enough that that is usually readily accomplishable, but now—”

He laughed again and rested his hand on the back of Gilbert’s head, tugging him forward and pressing a firm kiss to the young lord’s lips. Gilbert made a quiet noise and returned the embrace momentarily before he turned his head to the side to speak.

“You sound absolutely unhinged. I’ve no idea if I should be terrified or aroused.”

“The latter, please,” Ludwig murmured, peppering Gilbert’s cheeks and nose with soft kisses. “For once in my life I will have bested him. He probably did all he could to keep out of your line of sight, that’s why you did not get a good look at him but he failed and we will be rid of him…”

He saw Gilbert’s eyes light up, and a moment later the younger man wrapped his arms around his neck, pulling him in for another kiss. Ludwig started in surprise at the incredible passion and the feeling of desperation in Gilbert’s fingers against his skin, but he closed his eyes and leaned into the kiss, laughing against Gilbert’s lips when the younger man let out a heady groan.

Gilbert pulled away immediately, a heavy flush on his face, and licked his lips to break the strand of saliva that connect them.

“Disgusting,” he muttered, rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand. “Why do I degrade myself to such things simply because you have a streak of… damningly alluring confidence.”

“You wound me, my lord,” Ludwig said dryly, unable to keep from smiling.

“I’ll have something to wound you with if you keep exacerbating me like this,” Gilbert muttered, shifting uncomfortably in the bath. Ludwig raised an eyebrow and leaned over as if to take a little peek, laughing again when Gilbert let out a horrified squawk and grabbed the facecloth to cover himself with. He pointed at the door.

“Out, Ludwig!”

“Are you sure you require no further assistance, my lord?”

“Out!”

Ludwig shook his head and stood, lightly ruffling Gilbert’s hair.

“I will get your evening dress laid out, my lord.”

“Good,” Gilbert grumbled, sinking lower into the bath.

Ludwig bowed slightly and turned to leave, but Gilbert’s voice stopped him in the doorway.

“Farmhand?”

Ludwig glanced over his shoulder. Gilbert was sitting up again, facing him, a quiet, handsome smile playing around his face.

“I much prefer you like this,” he said lightly, his fingers tracing the rim of the tub. “See to it that you remain smiling until we part, if you would be so kind.”

Ludwig’s expression softened and after a moment he nodded.

“Until my last breath,” he quietly promised.

Gilbert’s smile brightened and he settled back down in the bath again, waving his hand.

“Go on, then. Feel free to be as macabre as you would like in private, so long as you make yourself useful and stay out of my line of vision.”

Ludwig shook his head slightly and left the bathroom, moving to quickly set out clothes for Gilbert. When the young lord got out of the bath Ludwig spent every last second he could drying Gilbert off and helping him get dressed. Wherever he moved, Gilbert’s hands moved with him, the young lord constantly touching his chest, his arms, his throat his hair, everywhere he could. It was incredibly distracting and resulted in more clothes taken off than put on, and by the time Gilbert was even remotely presentable he was scrabbling to make it downstairs to dinner in time.

“I’ll talk with my father afterwards,” he promised, his voice still a bit breathless. He scrubbed at his swollen lips, wiping at them with a bedsheet.

Ludwig quickly straightened out his own tie and hastily tucked his shirt back into his trousers.

“Yes, of course. About that – that thing.”

Gilbert rolled his eyes and tugged him down for another kiss, his hand lightly squeezing his thigh and nearly making Ludwig black out with pleasure. He leaned down to deepen the kiss but after only a moment Gilbert let out a noise of protest and broke away.

“N-No – not again. This time I mean it,” he panted, his cheeks growing flushed again. He checked his watch and groaned. “Damn it… I’m already late.”

He stood up on tiptoe to press another kiss to Ludwig’s lips and then hurried out the door, tossing a quick, “Wait for me!” over his shoulder.

Ludwig leaned back against the bedpost, trying to catch his breath. He walked to stand in front of the mirror, working to make himself presentable. The bruising around his eyes was still visible, although in the dim light from the lamps looked more like shadow than anything. At least the party the next day was not until the evening. Hopefully if any of the upper crust caught sight of him he could play it off as being a trick of the light.

He caught sight of another little dark spot above his collar and pulled it down. He winced as he prodded the bruises molting his neck, perfect impressions of Gilbert’s teeth surrounding them.

“Good Lord… he’s become such a fiend,” he muttered to himself. He quickly buttoned his shirt all the way up again and shrugged on his jacket before remaking the bed. The pillows and duvet cover had been flung to all corners of the room, quite unlike the normally well-kept bed things. Once the bed was straightened, Ludwig busied himself with tidying up the rest of the room before he could take the suspense no longer. He headed back out to the downstairs, making use of the servants passages to reach the other end of the estate. He came up the stairs next to the dining area, and Mrs. Peeters genially informed him that the family had retired to the lounge for coffee and dessert and that he was looking much better than yesterday. Ludwig thanked her and went to the longue, and found the entire family there, sans Gilbert and his father.

He checked a few of the earl’s favorite rooms, but when they still could not be found he gave up. He was bound to be seen by the family and Gilbert’s warning about being spotted by any of his female relatives still ran through his head. He made his way towards the servant’s stairs again, but a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye gave him pause. He glanced down the hall just in time to see the silhouette of someone’s back leaving through one of the side doors. He puzzled over the unfamiliar figure for a moment, but then dismissed it. Just as he was about to head back downstairs he heard a quiet hiss behind him.

“Farmhand!”

He turned and saw Gilbert motioning to him from around the corner of one of the halls. He quickly made his way over, and was about to ask where the young lord had been when Gilbert stepped properly into the light. His face was horribly pale and drawn, and Ludwig’s stomach churned.

“What is it?” he asked quietly.

Gilbert’s eyes darted wildly around, and without a word he took hold of Ludwig’s sleeve and dragged him into a nearby drawing room. The moment the door was closed he began to breathe heavily, nearly hyperventilating, and paced back and forth with a frenzied energy that set Ludwig’s nerves on edge.

“Gilbert – for God’s sake, what is it?”

He reached out to still the younger man, and Gilbert turned to face him, his eyes wide.

“He was there.”

Gilbert swallowed harshly, his fingers digging into Ludwig’s arm.

“Calm down,” Ludwig said as soothingly as possible. “Take a deep breath. Who was there?”

Gilbert shook his head, the frantic look never leaving him.

“Your father.”

Ludwig’s blood ran cold. That silhouette…

“He was here?”

Gilbert gave a sharp nod, anxious tears pooling in the corners of his eyes.

“I went to speak with my father after dinner but Mrs. Peeters called him away first, saying he had a visitor. I tried to wait patiently but I got too anxious and hunted them down and when I opened the door to my father’s study he was there. They were talking and laughing and my father looked at me smiling and said he wanted to introduce me to the kind man who had helped us today, that he’d managed to track him down and wanted to reward him.”

Gilbert let out a broken sob, his shoulders shaking.

“He’s giving him a job, Ludwig – he’s hiring him as a driver and when I tried to speak up your father just stared at me with these horrible… h-horrible eyes and I knew, I knew that he would say it he would give us up in an instant he didn’t care about the job he didn’t care about being the messenger who got shot this isn’t about money Ludwig I don’t think it ever was. He only wants to hurt us and he can get to my family at any time and all I could do was stand there helplessly while my father smiled at him and shook his hand and said how wonderful and progressive it all was that someone from his station could rise up and educate himself. And your father was so damningly charming he had my father eating out of his hand in an instant I could see it and all I could do was stand there while he stared at me. All he had to do was smile and say that it looked like I must enjoy roughhousing with my cousins and I don’t know how but he saw the marks on my neck. My collar must have slipped and I barely had time to fix it before my father saw and G-God I have never felt so vulnerable in my entire life—”

Gilbert pressed his face against Ludwig’s chest, his thin frame shaking uncontrollably.

Ludwig stood still as though frozen for a very long time, but the quiet sound of Gilbert struggling to catch his breath startled him out of his little daze. He wrapped his arms around the younger man, pressing his face against his soft hair.

They had never had the upper hand.

Not even for those few delusional minutes.

Of course his father would follow up on the scam so quickly. He would be the first to plant an impression in the earl’s mind and prove to them just how easily it was to play on a kind man’s trust. He had an excuse to meet the only person whose opinion mattered and he had calmly taken it. Now it didn’t matter what they said. The earl knew his face as a trustful one. He could let it slip at any time, and it was so incredibly obvious in hindsight. Eldritch had never wanted a job. He had never wanted to rob the place.

This was about emotional satisfaction, not material.

This was about ensuring a rebellious son’s demise.

Ludwig closed his eyes and hugged Gilbert against his chest, the frantic beating of the young lord’s heart doing little to calm him.

It was a long while before Gilbert felt well enough to join his family. Ludwig helped him dry the few tears that had managed to escape and promised to wait for him in his room. He escorted the young lord back to the sitting room and lingered for a few minutes outside to make sure he was settling in. The duke seemed pleased that he had returned, although Gilbert did not return the little smiles and friendly gestures as he had the day before. He was a superb actor, though, and to those who were not in the know he appeared to be completely composed. His mother cast him a few worried glances every now and then, but after a while she too relaxed, and soon the family was back to bantering as usual.

Ludwig slipped away and headed back upstairs towards Gilbert’s room, using the family’s side of the manor to get there. He did not want to risk running into Alex. His nerves were dangerously frayed as it was.

He let himself into Gilbert’s room and sat down in front of the fire. One of the maids had lit it while he’d been away, but the warmth did little to cheer him.

Gilbert returned around midnight. He shut and locked the door and then fell wordlessly into Ludwig’s arms. They sat in front of the fire until it was reduced to embers, Gilbert verbally turning away every maid that came to stoke it again.

It was well into the morning before Gilbert finally fell asleep. Ludwig carefully picked him up and carried him to the bed, getting him settled before leaving to retire to his own rooms. It seemed pointless now to keep up these sorts of affectations. He had a sinking suspicion Kirkland knew exactly what sort of information Alex had on him, and Mrs. Peeters was not dim enough to let it slip by her either.

But pretense was all they had to cling to, now. And Ludwig felt obligated to uphold it.

Once in his room he shut the door and shrugged off his jacket. He got into bed and managed to get a fitful few hours sleep before Kirkland came to retrieve him. Ludwig managed to wash his face and shave before getting dressed, but he made no attempt to look otherwise presentable. Kirkland, thankfully, kept his comments to himself, and had Ludwig help him with sorting the china for the party that evening.

Ludwig worked in silence, the busy work a welcome reprieve. He felt the eyes of the staff on him, their stares containing nothing but pure enmity. Word had obviously gotten out that he was to attend the party as a guest rather than a servant, and he dully wondered how many new recruits Alex would gain from the transgression. Kirkland and Mrs. Peeters would be attending as well, but they were nearly members of the family and no one dared speak up against the butler. That left only one target for their rancor, and Ludwig could feel the ice beneath his feet growing thinner with every glare.

The day passed by in a hazy blur. Ludwig was still reeling from the little sleep he’d gotten, and when he’d helped Gilbert get dressed the young lord seemed in a similar state. They spoke quietly for a few minutes, Gilbert attempting time and time again to find some way out of their dilemma, and Ludwig quietly encouraging him.

Gilbert finally let out a little sigh and glanced out the window at the darkening sky.

“They’re starting to arrive,” he said quietly, his fingers tracing the approaching lights in the glass. Ludwig stood next to him, watching as lords and ladies, their proper titles lost to him, descended from their automobiles. Alex and the groomsmen were lined up outside to help the ladies ascend the staircase and take coats and luggage, the flurry of activity feeling so distantly foreign. Ludwig felt a slim arm wrap around his waist, and he glanced down at Gilbert. The younger man smiled up at him, his red eyes weary.

“Do you suppose you can forget the noose around our necks for just one evening?” he asked softly. “Just for tonight I would like to pretend that we are of the same sort of blood. Mingling together with all of them on the stairs out there. None of them the wiser.”

Ludwig nodded and leaned against Gilbert slightly.

“I can pretend for that long, at least,” he said, mimicking Gilbert’s earlier actions and tracing the cars through the window.

“Thank you.”

Gilbert gently pushed on his side, a small smile on his face.

“Go get dressed then, farmhand. I will meet you in the foyer.”

Ludwig nodded and gave Gilbert’s forehead a kiss before he turned around and left the room. The downstairs was eerily quiet. Most of the help was upstairs serving and taking coats to their proper rooms. He got dressed quickly in the suit Kirkland had lent him. It was a little big on him, oddly, and Ludwig wondered in what alternate universe Kirkland owned a suit too large even for someone a good foot taller than him. After slicking back his hair again and dabbing the cosmetic powder Mrs. Peeters had given him under his eyes to hide the bruising, he left his rooms and made his way to the foyer. He stopped on the stairs, listening for a moment to the roar of conversation just on the other side of the door. He squared his shoulders and then slipped through the door and headed down the hallway. He received a few glances as he stepped into the foyer proper, most of them merely curious. A new face was bound to garner conversation. One of the lords whom he recognized from other parties came up to him and started talking with him, asking him to introduce himself and so on. Ludwig merely said that he was a friend of the earl’s son, too tired and uninventive to create an elaborate back story for himself.

The man accepted the explanation readily enough and then immediately launched into an impassioned rant about the difficulties of the steel industry. Ludwig listened politely, wondering if the man would have accepted any explanation for his identity so long as he was left with a submissive conversation partner. A little tap to his shoulder made the man abruptly stop, and he turned to glance at the interrupter. Gilbert stood there with a little smile on his face and then said warmly, “I do apologize, Lord Burnham, but my father wanted to greet you personally.”

“Eh? Oh – Gilbert, goodness me, how you’ve grown,” the man said with a little chuckle. He patted Gilbert on the shoulder and gave him a wink. “I’ll leave you and your friend to it, then. Tell your father that he should allow you to invite your guests more often. It’s always so nice to have new faces around.”

“I will make sure to tell him,” Gilbert said with a smile, waving as the man left.

Ludwig stared after him, and then said in a mystified voice, “I have met that man four times before as your valet. I took his coat at the Christmas party and he had no idea who I was.”

“Oh, don’t take it so personally farm—Ludwig. These people almost never look up from their brandy. His lack of recognition says nothing about you,” Gilbert said dismissively, taking Ludwig’s arm and leading him into the festive proper.

“Well, no, I didn’t think it did,” Ludwig said quietly, shying away from the other guests as they moved. “You’ll have to forgive my nerves. This is a new experience for me on top of all the other stressors.”

“They are forgiven, of course, so long as they do not get in our way,” Gilbert said firmly, grabbing two drinks from a tray as it was brought past them. He handed one to Ludwig and then led them into the ballroom. It was not a room Ludwig had spent much time in, as his duties during parties were normally regulated to guest greeting at the most. It had a wonderfully Rococo feel about it with golden embellishments and large full length windows that looked out over the back gardens. The floor was a checkered marble pattern that some guests turned their noses up at and others praised as ‘delightfully modern.’ Ludwig did his best not to stare at the ceiling frescos, but he hadn’t had much opportunity to admire them before and curiosity was driving him mad.

He let Gilbert lead them to a more secluded corner, sipping on his drink as they went. A large crowd had already gathered around the duke, who was loitering in front of the tables of food situated around the far west wall. The man looked politely interested in the growing crowd, but he was constantly scanning the ballroom. When he caught sight of them his eyes lit up and he immediately headed towards them. Ludwig’s fingers tightened around his glass and he hissed, “The duke is heading this way.”

“Oh – shit,” Gilbert muttered, drowning the curse with another swallow of champagne. He managed to put a polite smile on his face before the man arrived, and Ludwig did his best to follow in Gilbert’s lead.

The duke came to a stop a few feet in front of them, looking delighted.

“Gilbert! Your mother said you might not be attending, you were feeling so ill this morning. I’m delighted to see you changed your mind.”

“It’s my own fault, I’m afraid. I fell asleep in front of the fireplace last night,” Gilbert said with a little laugh.

The duke chuckled quietly, glancing at Ludwig with a curious expression.

“You must forgive me, but… have we met?” he finally asked politely.

Ludwig nodded, swallowing heavily.

“We have, your grace,” he said quietly. “I’m—”

“A visiting friend from a lower family,” Gilbert interrupted. “He has been staying with us for quite some time and insists on assisting the staff to earn his keep.”

The duke’s eyes widened and he stared at Ludwig, aghast.

“Earn your keep – surely the good earl does not put you up to such a thing.”

“Quite the contrary, your grace, I feel enormously indebted to the earl for allowing me to stay,” Ludwig said quickly, lightly stepping on Gilbert’s foot to let him know he had not appreciated the lie to someone of such a high station. Low profile did not mean lying to a duke’s face.

The duke made a puzzled noise but then shrugged his shoulders and turned back to Gilbert.

“So you were going to play for us tonight, yes? You did lose the bet.”

“I did, didn’t I,” Gilbert said with a resigned sigh. “Your eardrums may very well bleed this evening.”

“I look forward to it!” the duke laughed, lightly resting his hand on Gilbert’s shoulder. It lingered there far too long for Ludwig’s liking, and he could not entirely hide his displeasure behind his drink. He thought he saw the duke’s eyes rest on him for a moment, but when he looked back the other man was completely focused on whatever little story Gilbert was telling.

Applause suddenly cut through the conversation as the earl entered the ballroom. The earl smiled and held up his hands, gesturing for them to return to their conversations.

The duke let out a little breath and smiled at Gilbert.

“The last formality of the evening, which means we are free to go about our business,” he said, taking Gilbert’s hand. “I need you to explain to me what sorts of dishes some of these are. I’m not familiar with all of them.”

Gilbert cast Ludwig a slightly panicked look as he was dragged away.

“A-Ah, well I would be happy to, but my friend—”

“Can take care of himself for the evening, I believe,” the duke said, his voice still genial, but the dismissive glance he cast Ludwig’s way made the valet’s blood start to boil.

Gilbert dug in his heels a bit more, his expression growing stubborn.

“I’m sorry, but I really would rather spend the evening with my friend.”

“You said he’s staying here for a while, correct? Tonight is my last night here,” the duke said a bit more firmly. “It would be a shame if we spent all this time together and squandered the last moments.”

Gilbert looked over his shoulder at Ludwig again, his eyes pleading.

The young lord’s expression was enough to move Ludwig’s feet automatically, and at the last second he reached out to gently take Gilbert’s wrist.

“I believe Gilbert made his wishes perfectly clear, your grace,” he said quietly, his voice shaking slightly with nerves.

The duke stopped, an incredulous look on his face.

“I beg your pardon?”

Ludwig let go of Gilbert’s wrist, suddenly too disgusted with the man’s behavior to maintain his proper distance.

“You are treating this human being as though he is a toy for you to monopolize. Your grace,” he said, barely remembering to add on the proper address. “He has said that he does not want to keep your company for the evening and as a gentleman you should respect that, regardless of imposed time constraints you feel should take precedence over his agency.”

The duke’s face turned red and he let go of Gilbert’s arm, but looked ready to deck Ludwig at any moment. He opened his mouth to speak but a friendly voice stopped him.

“And how are we faring tonight, Matthias?”

The earl gave the little group a smile, his hand still on the duke’s shoulder.

The duke looked momentarily taken aback, but then shot Ludwig a glare and said politely, “Quite well, thank you. Your son was just about to –”

“Show Ludwig the room? It’s his first time attending such a formal function, he does look a bit lost, doesn’t he,” the earl said lightly, giving Ludwig a sympathetic look.

Gilbert ducked his head, but there was a little smirk playing around his face. He remained tactfully silent, however, letting the older men have their tête-à-tête.

The duke shifted his weight and then cleared his throat.

“Ah, yes. He does.”

He glanced at Gilbert.

“Perhaps later we could play that duet together?”

“Perhaps,” Gilbert said agreeably, even as he took a little step closer to Ludwig.

The duke stared at them for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly but after a moment he turned to face the earl.

“I suppose you will have to be my guide, then.”

“A job I undertake with relish,” the earl said kindly, patting the duke on the shoulder. “Shall we?”

Ludwig watched the two men leave and then pressed a hand against his face.

“I talked back to a duke,” he said weakly, his shoulders shaking.

“You talk back to an earl’s son every day, farmhand. Now’s no time to get flustered,” Gilbert murmured, but there was a happy smile on his face. He lightly bumped his shoulder against Ludwig’s, his voice unbearably happy when he spoke.

“And more importantly, you talked back to a duke to save my dignity. What a gallant, contumacious knight I have.”

Ludwig nodded, letting out a slow breath.

“He was being an utter cad. What sort of friend would I be if I didn’t.”

“A smart one.”

Ludwig let out a surprised laugh and subtly took Gilbert’s hand for a moment, giving it a squeeze before letting go.

“I need a drink.”

“Seconded.”

Gilbert turned on his heel and went off on a hunt for more champagne. Ludwig moved to the wall to avoid the crowds, watching the lords and ladies mingle with one another. It was so easy to get lost in their lavishness. There was so much to look at, so much grandeur enclosed in a space that was already bursting with it. He tilted his head back to study the ceiling, finally able to take in the myths splashed across the plaster.

He turned his head towards the ballroom entrance when he heard a familiar voice, unable to place it for a moment. Kirkland was standing around the entrance, talking with someone. Ludwig pushed himself away from the wall, curious. When he saw who it was, his blood froze.

Alex was standing in the doorway, a piece of paper in his hand. He was talking under his breath to the butler, and even across the room Ludwig could see the look of triumph on the groomsman’s face. Kirkland’s shoulders were tensed, but after a moment he gestured towards the western wall where the earl and the duke were talking. Alex nodded his head and quickly made his way through the crowd, the paper still clutched in his hand. Kirkland ran his fingers through his hair and looked around for a moment until he spotted Ludwig. His green eyes narrowed slightly before they shifted to focus on Alex’s moving form again. The look on the butler’s face made Ludwig’s heart nearly stop.

There was only one thing that could make Kirkland look so disturbed and Alex so victorious.

Ludwig scanned the crowd, searching for Gilbert, and finally spotted him being talked at by another lord, the drinks still in his hand. Ludwig quickly moved across the ballroom, trying to push as little as possible. He reached Gilbert’s side and tugged him away, the panic on his face enough to make Gilbert look immediately alarmed.

“Ludwig, what—”

“Alex is here. He told Kirkland and now he’s going to tell your father.”

Gilbert’s face went pale and he turned to look at his father and the duke still talking with each other.

“Are you sure?”

Ludwig shook his head, panic making it difficult to think clearly.

“No, I didn’t. I don’t know, I couldn’t hear them but he has something in his hand, my father was here today what else could it be I don’t know what to do—”

His breath caught in his throat when he saw how close Alex was to the duke. He cast Gilbert a desperate look.

“Gilbert, I don’t know what to do,” he said weakly, his voice shaking. “We have no time, we can’t stop this.”

Gilbert remained silent, his face still drained of color.

“…I’ll stop Alex,” he finally said quietly. “You – …you do what you feel is right.”

Ludwig nodded and gave Gilbert’s arm a little squeeze before he turned and quickly made his way to the earl. Alex was almost there and Ludwig had to practically run to reach the man before the groomsman did. He stopped just short of the earl, ignoring the dirty look the duke shot him.

“My lord, I would speak with you.”

The earl gave Ludwig a slightly concerned look.

“Can it wait, Mr. Schmidt?”

Ludwig shook his head, hearing footsteps approach behind him.

“I’m afraid there’s no time, my lord,” he said quietly. “It must be now.”

The earl frowned and glanced over Ludwig’s shoulder.

“Ah, Alex. Did you need something?”

Ludwig turned to see the groomsman standing right behind him, the rolled paper still clutched in his hand. Alex’s smile widened as he caught Ludwig’s eye, but all he said was a very polite, “It can wait, my lord. Please. Your guests should take priority.”

“Very well.” The earl nodded towards Ludwig and then turned to the duke. “If you’ll pardon the interruption, your grace.”

The duke waved his hand, his eyes fixing on (undoubtedly) Gilbert again.

“Not at all. Please take your time.”

The earl gave the younger man a smile and then lightly patted Ludwig’s shoulder.

“Will here suffice?”

Ludwig shook his head, swallowing heavily.

“I would prefer in private, my lord,” he said softly. He heard Alex laugh and shot the groomsman a little glare, but the other man merely smiled before grabbing a champagne flute and holding it up towards him in a mocking toast. The only satisfaction to be had from the gesture was in the molted colors Alex sported on his cheeks and nose.

The earl let out a sigh, capturing Ludwig’s attention again.

“Very well.”

He and walked out of the ballroom, stopping to warmly greet several guests. Ludwig trailed behind him, and just before they left the room he glanced over his shoulder at Gilbert. The young lord was watching him, a stricken but resigned look on his face. A moment later the duke blocked him from view, and it took everything in Ludwig’s power not to rush back over and slug the man in his aristocratic face.

“Mr. Schmidt?”

Ludwig glanced at the earl and nodded.

“My apologies.”

The earl merely gave him a slightly curious look and then led them out of the ballroom and into one of the side smoking rooms. It was thankfully empty, and the earl closed the door behind them before regarding Ludwig.

“Now, what is so pressing that it could not wait?”

He smiled.

“I must admit, I’m rather curious.”

Ludwig stood still for a very long time, his shaking hands clasped together in front of him.

His father had been there. He had wormed his way into the manor even without Ludwig’s help. He had won the trust of the earl so easily, enough that he was allowed to meet with him without an escort, without any sort of supervision.

No matter what Ludwig or Gilbert said in their defense, they were fighting a losing war. It was only a question of who would expose them first. Alex or his father.

Or him.

Ludwig raised his head and caught the earl’s eyes. The man stared back at him, a serene, patient look on his face, so similar to Gilbert’s and yet strikingly different. The earl thought him honest. Thought him upright and good, and had through so still despite every slander against his mental health, despite every blemish that clung to him from the class into which he was born.

If they were going to be found, it was going to be through honesty. And for once, Ludwig would conform to the earl’s image of him.

He swallowed heavily, his eyes stinging.

There had never been another ending for them.

Every last touch, every smile, every lie had led him to this point. Standing silently in front of the man he betrayed with every one of them.

And still all he could think of was Gilbert.

“Mr. Schmidt?”

Ludwig straightened his back and met the earl’s eyes.

“My lord. I’m afraid I have a most horrible confession to make. And all I will ask is that you listen until the end, and know that neither of us ever wished for this to come to light. We knew how much it would hurt you.”

The earl’s brows furrowed slightly, a troubled expression worrying the lines of his face.

“’We,’ Mr. Schmidt?”

Ludwig gave a sharp nod, his fingers tightening.

“Yes, my lord. Myself and your son.”

A look of surprise took hold of the earl then, and an uncomfortable silence fell over the room, stifling all but the steady ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner.

Ludwig could see the wheels in the earl’s head turning, the flit of his eyes as he stared at Ludwig’s collar, at his mouth, his hands.

And the exact moment when the first doubt of suspicion clouded the earl’s clear, honest eyes.


	24. (A)baddon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to go back and remind myself what the earl’s surname was. Oops. (It’s Horschhorn).
> 
> But this is it! The final chapter. There’s an epilogue too, so I’ll save my ramblings for there.

It took several long seconds before the earl spoke again, and when he did his voice had lost its warmth.

“I am not one for games of this nature, Mr. Schmidt. And of what I thought I knew of you I assumed you felt the same.”

“It is not a game I am playing, my lord. Nor a joke,” Ludwig said quietly, hiding his trembling hands as best he could. “I am not stupid enough to downplay the gravity of what I have just insinuated.”

“And what exactly did you insinuate, Mr. Schmidt?” Lord Horschhorn said sharply, his eyes flashing with a frantic anger that made Ludwig take a step back. He swallowed heavily, his mouth gone completely dry.

“That the nature of your son’s relationship and mine is not entirely as you believe it to be,” he said quietly. “That we – that… I… have both more carnal and purer intentions in keeping his company than we display publicly.”  
The earl stared at him, the color drained from his face and his mouth set into a grim line.

“Dispense with the poetics,” he said quietly. “What have you done to my son.”

Ludwig’s stomach rolled as a wave of nausea hit him, and he had to look away, unable to keep the earl’s stolid gaze.

“Nothing he did not want,” he said, fixating on a slight crack in the parquet.

“Have you slept together?”

Ludwig clenched his teeth together so tightly he thought they might shatter, and then gave a very slight nod.

He heard the earl draw in a sharp breath, and then raised his head in time to see a tear trickle down the older man’s cheek. Without thinking Ludwig pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket and moved to press it into the earl’s hand.

“Don’t.”

The single word stopped Ludwig in his tracks. The earl shook his head, a few drops landing on the intricate wooden floor with a gentle patter. His narrowed eyes slid to the side to fix on Ludwig’s face for a moment before he straightened up.

“You will wait here,” he said quietly. “Do not show your face outside this room until I have explicitly given you permission.”

Ludwig nodded and mumbled, “Yes, my lord.”

The earl pulled out his own handkerchief and quickly dabbed at his eyes before leaving, shutting the door gently behind him. Ludwig remained standing as long as he could but his legs finally gave out. He sat down on one of the loveseats next to the fire, resting his shaking hands in his lap. He felt miserably cold, a thin sheen of sweat clinging to him and his stomach still churning. There was a frenzy under his skin that made him want to leap out the window, run until his entire being gave out and he had completely exhausted himself. He had to move, he had to leave do anything to emend the situation into which he had willingly thrown himself.

But he had his orders. To wait, and not to flee. They were more lenient than he had been expecting, and so he would obey them without complaint.

Ludwig bit his lip and glanced at the door. He could only assume the earl had left to retrieve his son. Either that or he had returned to the party to ease the questions that would inevitably rise when the host himself remained absent from the festivities for too long.

Panic bubbled up inside his chest again, and Ludwig clenched his teeth, forcing himself to breathe in time with the ticking of the clock on the wall. The strained focus did little to soothe him, but it kept hysteria at bay.

He lost track of how many cycles of sixty he counted through, but the fire in the grate had not yet burned out when the latch on the door was depressed. Ludwig quickly stood up as the earl entered, his heart sinking when he saw Gilbert follow him. The young lord’s face was pinched and his eyes were red. He glanced at Ludwig, giving him a very weak smile.

The earl closed the door and spoke before either could.

“Sit. Both of you.”

Ludwig quickly sat back down and Gilbert followed suit, an appropriate distance between them. Lord Horschhorn took the armchair on the other side of the table, and for a long time regarded them silently.

“Judging from your reaction when I fetched you, Gilbert, I’m assuming you are aware of what Mr. Schmidt has divulged.”

Gilbert audibly swallowed.

“Yes. I… I have an idea.”

“And is it true?”

Gilbert glanced towards Ludwig, harried, and it took all Ludwig had to nod. Gilbert’s face fell, and for a moment he looked as though he might burst into tears, but he composed himself and said softly, “If he told you that our relationship is an intimate one, then yes. It’s true.”

“And what does ‘intimacy’ mean when it comes to your valet, Gilbert?” the earl said, his voice regaining a furious edge, barely tempered.

Gilbert swallowed again, and Ludwig had to fold his hands in his lap to keep from reaching out towards the younger man.

“We – we engage in the sorts of things you and… and M-Mother do—”

“You do not.”

Lord Horschhorn’s voice left no room for argument. He sat up straighter, staring at his son.

“What you have engaged in is not only a gross violation of your future marital bed, but illegal and amoral as well. Your valet will go to jail a sodomist, and if word of this ever gets out –”

“No!”

Gilbert pushed himself to his feet, a stricken look on his face.

“Father, no, you can’t send him away,” he pleaded, tears already gathering in his eyes. “Ludwig’s done nothing wrong. I came on to him, I proposed all of it, I instigated it, please don’t—”

“Gilbert.”

Ludwig’s voice made Gilbert swallow his words, and he turned around to stare pitifully at his valet. Ludwig shook his head and met the earl’s clinical gaze.

“Your son is still young at heart. The responsibility for this lies with me. As it should.”

“Ludwig – damn it, you can’t treat me like a child whenever it’s convenient for your guilty conscience!” Gilbert exploded, looking as though he might deck the older man. “I knew full well what I was doing, I knew the risks and the rewards and I weighed them and found one to be far greater than the other. Don’t take this all upon yourself – I’ll receive a slap on the wrist but you could be executed –”

“It doesn’t matter what you say, Gilbert,” Ludwig said sharply, rising to his feet as well. Anger was easy, anger he could digest and process. The guilt and misery and abject humiliation he could not. “You are above me in social status and below me in age. Any jury would look at our situation and assume that I had somehow simply tricked you into it. There is nothing you could say that would convince them I did not put the words into your mouth or otherwise take advantage of you.”

Gilbert took a step forward, the desire to fight still burning in his eyes, but before he could come up with a retort Lord Horschhorn spoke, his voice calm.

“He’s right, Gilbert. Sit down.”

“But –”

“Sit.”

Gilbert made a quiet noise of rage and swiped at his face, but sat down all the same. After a moment Ludwig did so as well, unable to keep from lightly brushing his fingers against Gilbert’s arm in apology. He heard the earl inhale sharply and pulled away. Not that it mattered anymore. He had admitted to sodomy and worse. There was nothing a little touch could further convict him of.

Gilbert lifted his head, regarding Ludwig for a moment, and then his father.

“You needn’t look so shocked,” he muttered. “This is hardly my first time flouting the law.”

“Your flagrant contempt for the laws of men is the least of my concerns,” Lord Horschhorn said, staring at his son until Gilbert looked away. “I know you require no further lessons in religious instruction, and as I am not a pastor I will not dwell on God’s law. But your complete disregard for this family, for your future and Eliza’s cuts me to the bone. I am not so naive that I think a man as conscious of his station as Mr. Schmidt seduced you against your will and forced you to keep this horrible secret from me. I know that you are troubled in that way, Gilbert, and I have known for a very long time. But I never thought you would hurt your mother, Eliza, and me with your selfishness.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt anyone—” Gilbert started to protest, but his father pushed himself to his feet, his face white with rage.

“You may not have meant to but you did, Gilbert! When your mother hears how you’ve debased yourself do you think she will applaud your foray into mortal sin? Do you think she will find your egocentric debauchery somehow brave or noble? You let yourself be bedded by this roué – eleven years your senior who was until a few months ago a worker in the fields – and went behind my back to continue this liaison for your own selfish reasons.”

“Don’t talk about him like that!” Gilbert snapped, tears pooling in his eyes. Ludwig could only watch helplessly as Gilbert stood up to meet his father’s gaze, his whole body trembling from anger. “Degrade me all your want but spare Ludwig your shallow philanthropy. This is how you really feel – he’ll never be anything but a farmhand to you no matter what pretty words you say!”

“I consider him to be many things other than a farmhand, I can promise you that,” the earl said, his voice rising in volume. “But I will never think of him as a suitor for you, no matter how much you scream and plead. As though you were some pathetic woman bent on throwing her life away over the first man to show interest, regardless of station. You demean yourself horribly and your selfish actions could cost this family everything! Do you think of nothing but yourself? Do you want to live your life as a complete embarrassment, as a sexual deviant?!”

“I would rather be an embarrassment than live a lie!” Gilbert yelled, his voice breaking. “I would rather the whole world think me an aberrant than spend my life deceiving Eliza into thinking I love her when the only person I’ve ever felt anything for is rotting away in a cell an innocent man!”

“Do not talk to me about his innocence, you are both culpable,” Lord Horschhorn said sharply, his knuckles white as he clenched his fists. “The difference between you is that I will have to continue to live with you, Gilbert, but Mr. Schmidt will be removed immediately. His future is of no concern to me any longer.”

Ludwig flinched at the harsh words, trying to swallow them as best he could. He’d known. There was no way on this earth he would be allowed to remain by Gilbert’s side once the earl knew. Even so it was difficult to reconcile the furious man in front of him, who cast aside his future without remorse, with the man who only a day earlier had professed just the opposite.

Gilbert was shocked into silence for a few seconds, his hands shaking.

“Father, you… you would really call the police?” he asked weakly. “Even knowing that Ludwig would—”

“I have not yet decided Mr. Schmidt’s fate,” the earl muttered, sitting once more. “Rest assured that once that decision is made, regardless of outcome, you will never see him again.”

Gilbert sank back into his seat as well, tears silently streaming down his face. Ludwig did his best to remain impassive, but it took only a few seconds for him to break. He tugged his handkerchief out of his pocket and offered it to Gilbert, who took it with a watery smile and a soft, “Thank you, farmhand.”

“You know I cannot bear to see you cry,” Ludwig said quietly, ignoring the stinging in his own eyes. “Do your best to smile, my lord. Don’t spend your energy worrying over my fate.”

“How can I help it?” Gilbert twisted the handkerchief in his hands, the threads stretching so much they made a quiet grating sound. “How can I help it – what can I do other than simply sit here pathetic and hopeless and cry? If you have an honest suggestion I would love to hear it.”

Ludwig fell still at that, unsure of how to respond. He withdrew again, putting a proper distance between himself at Gilbert. After only a moment the young lord moved over as well, closing in the gap again.

“It’s already done,” Gilbert mumbled when Ludwig started to protest. He scrubbed at his face again. “We have nothing to gain from these distant affectations.”

“Even so…”

Ludwig bit his lip and said nothing more. The earl was observing them rather calmly, although the anger in his eyes had yet to abate. Ludwig did not want to fan the flames any longer, but there was nothing he could do to control Gilbert. After a moment he rested his hand on Gilbert’s shoulder, and the young lord turned to bury his face against Ludwig’s chest. The earl made a little noise, but before he could speak Gilbert said in a muffled voice, “You are thinking of sending him to his death over what is already done. Allow us this one bit of comfort. If you cannot stand the sight, the door is over there. I’m sure your guests would appreciate your return.”

Ludwig tightened his hand on Gilbert’s shoulder, casting the earl an apologetic look. The older man met his eyes, fury in his expression, but said nothing. Ludwig looked away again and lightly rubbed Gilbert’s back, feeling sick and twisted for showing even innocent affection in front of the earl. It was wrong. It was so wrong to feel so incredibly guilty for merely offering comfort, but he couldn’t put his thoughts into words to explain why. He wished he could be angry about it all instead of quiet and scared but in the presence of the man who could end his life with a simple phone call it was difficult to feel anything but defeated. Gilbert’s quiet sobs against his chest did little to comfort, and even after the heart-wrenching sound abated Ludwig could only sit and gently offer what little he could to the younger man.

The ticking of the clock marked the stifling seconds before the earl finally spoke again.

“When did the nature of your relationship change, exactly.”

Gilbert slowly pushed himself up and opened his mouth to reply, but the earl shook his head.

“Mr. Schmidt.”

Ludwig blinked in surprise when he was addressed. He let out a little breath and closed his eyes, trying to remember.

“Five months or so ago,” he said quietly. “Right before the fireflies died.”

“And no one else knows?”

Ludwig glanced at Gilbert who met his eyes and nodded, his lips pressed together.

“I cannot be positive of that, my lord,” he finally said, folding his hands in his lap. “I believe Alex suspects. As you are now most likely reevaluating our earlier fight, let me be the one to tell you that it was because of this relationship. More specifically the unsavory things he had to say about your son.”

“Unsavory things?”

“Yes, my lord. Mostly him expressing his wishes to… to engage with your son as he believes I have. He called Lord Gilbert a number of horrible things that I cannot bring myself to repeat.”

“And I thank you for your discretion. I’ve seen and heard enough horrors for today to last me a good while,” the earl muttered, tapping his foot. “Are there others?”

“Roderich suspects as well. But more importantly is the man you met with yesterday.”

Ludwig lifted his head, forcing himself to meet the earl’s eyes.

“That man was my father. And he was conspiring to slander your family by divulging this secret. He and Alex have been in contact and I believe they would have used this information to blackmail your son or possibly even you. That is why I chose to disclose our situation when I did.”

“Your father?” For a moment the earl’s expression returned to normal, a thoughtful look on his face. “He made no mention of you.”

“He is a conman, my lord. He would not reveal any information that might jeopardize his machinations,” Ludwig said quietly.

The earl nodded and then let out a slow breath.

“If they are the only ones that know, then that makes things a bit easier. I will keep your father at a distance and ensure that no word of this leaves his lips in front of those who could make use of such information. Alex will be chastised and relegated to a position that more suits his menial nature—”

“You aren’t going to fire him?” Gilbert interrupted, stunned. “Father, he’s been nothing but horrible to Ludwig –”

“And Mr. Schmidt has proven himself to be a man I cannot trust. Why should I believe him in this?” the earl said sharply. “You have no cards to play here, Gilbert. You will sit and be quiet and for once work in this family’s interests. Not against them.”

“But –”

Gilbert swallowed his protest when his father glared horribly at him, but instead asked very quietly, “Will you be calling the police? Just answer me that and I will comport myself however demurely you wish.”

“That is the second time you have asked, and the second time I will answer that I do not know yet what I will do,” Lord Horschhorn said, rising to his feet. “I have a duke and several hundred guests waiting for me to rejoin them. If what you have said about Alex is true, then I should return as quickly as possible before rumors begin to spread. You will join me, Gilbert, and play the part of the obedient son. And you, Mr. Schmidt, will return to your quarters and stay there until you are called for. You are not to speak or interact with another living soul unless I give you express permission.”

“Yes, my lord,” Ludwig said quietly, pushing himself to his feet. “Thank you.”

The earl stared at him for a moment longer and then shook his head.

“You are the first man I have met to so politely thank his possible executioner,” he muttered, gesturing for Gilbert to leave first. “You make it difficult to completely bury my former impression of you.”

“I would ask that you retain it as much as you are able, my lord,” Ludwig said, doing his best to smile. “As miserable as my life will be away from here, I would rather prefer to stay alive. These past few months are the first time that I have held such a sentiment since I was dispatched ten years ago, and I have found myself growing foolishly addicted to the feeling.”

That gave the earl pause, and he turned to meet Ludwig’s eyes again. He silently regarded the younger man for a moment, and Ludwig did his best not to break under the intense scrutiny.

“If you truly wished to stay alive and free, then you would have listened to common sense that warned you of this.”

“I did listen, my lord. For a very long time,” Ludwig said quietly, glancing behind the earl at Gilbert, who was standing in front of the door with his head bowed. “And if I do go to imprisonment, then it will be as a man who in the end can regrettably regret nothing.”

Ludwig watched as Gilbert lifted his head, the young lord’s expression one of surprise.

The earl’s eyes narrowed and he took a step forward.

“I would choose your words very carefully, Mr. Schmidt.”

“And I have, my lord,” Ludwig said, a bit more firmly as his confidence grew. He was already swinging from the gallows, and the exhilaration that certainty provided was finally hitting him underneath the sorrow. “I have experienced more of life’s joys than I thought possible. How can I possibly be sorry for something that has given me breath while I was drowning, no matter how fleeting the relief.”

He straightened up and met the older man’s eyes, watching in his periphery as Gilbert’s lips slowly turned up in a soft smile.

“I am sorry if it causes you pain to hear, my lord, but what I feel for Gilbert is more than simple deviance or lust. I would be remiss if I never clarified my motives.”

“How would you emend my impression, then?” the earl asked. “And if you belie your sordid relationship with anything resembling a healthy one—”

“Your son knows very well how I feel about him, my lord,” Ludwig gently interrupted. “I have told him many, many times. And I mean no disrespect, but I wish for the exact words to remain with him. They were the only gift I had to give.”

The earl fell still and then glanced over his shoulder at Gilbert. The younger lord was smiling, steadfastly ignoring the tears rolling down his cheeks.

“Woefully mawkish to the end, farmhand,” he said lightly. “I’d hoped that would be fixed eventually.”

“We cannot all be as hardened to emotional revelations as you, my lord,” Ludwig said, returning the quiet smile.

The earl let out a heavy sigh and ran his fingers through his hair before he said brusquely, “I do not doubt that you have deluded yourself into believing you feel such things, and I have the sense to reserve judgment on that front. It is not for me to decide, and more to the point, it is irrelevant. Actions dictate our course, Mr. Schmidt, not sentiments. I’m sure you are aware of that.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Then we have nothing more to discuss for the time being. Keep to yourself as I have instructed and tell no one of this. I will deal with your father and Alex as I see fit to contain this as much as possible.”

“I understand, my lord.”

With one last glance at him, Lord Horschhorn turned to leave. As he did so, Ludwig mouthed the three words for Gilbert to see, and the young lord wordlessly returned them with one last glance.

As the door slid shut, however, Ludwig caught a glimpse of Gilbert’s expression through the slight crack.

His eyes were empty.

Ludwig stared at the dead eyes as the door slowly closed, until the latch finally clicked, hiding them from view. He stood still for several minutes, needing the distance between himself and the two men, before he opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. The paintings and elaborate wall coverings around him grew less and less distinct with every step, and by the time he was in the servant’s quarters the world had been reduced to little more than a gray blur.

He methodically undressed, laying out the suit to return to Kirkland in the morning, and then set about washing his face and getting ready for bed. He focused on the smallest details of his routine. The bristles in the brush. The gurgling of the faucet when he turned it. The rush of water as the drain swallowed it whole.

His mirror was cracked and it twisted his face into a monster’s that needled at him even when he turned his back. The monster the earl had seen, the monster he’d thought he was until Gilbert had smiled at him. But the last thing he’d seen of Gilbert, the last thing he might ever see, were the dead eyes. The empty ones that had littered the dirt in France and in India. There was not even enough despair left to call them hopeless.

Ludwig pressed his hands against his face, feeling himself start to break. The floor was shaking again, the distant whistling of mortars, the tune of a single note that had ushered so many away to never be touched, never be seen again.

He’d never see him again.

It took Ludwig a moment to realize the soft wailing was his own, that the men crying out in loss and fear were false and all he was truly hearing was his quiet sobbing as he broke.

He’d never see Gilbert again. He was dead, may as well be dead to him like the men he’d stumbled over and left behind. The one thing that had given him joy, the thing that had saved him, dragged him out of solitary paradise and made him dig his toes into the earth and press on would never truly be his again. Would never again smile for him or gently coax him into despair and agony and ecstasy and utter joy. And he was so selfish he knew it, could feel his own self-loathing and disgust billowing out of him a noxious black cloud but he swallowed it still, forcing it back down to torment himself. The thought of Gilbert smiling for another. Of forgetting him, of living outside the flaming sword and leaving him to sit alone, his Eden reduced to ash now that he’d ventured once beyond its gates. Months ago the thought would have been comforting. That he was not Gilbert’s entire world, that the younger man could leave, unfettered, and find a better something out there, but now.

The mere thought had become the most agonizing of tortures.

Ludwig rolled over to curl onto his side, pressing his face against the pillow where traces of Gilbert’s scent still lingered. The pathetic ghost he had left. He clutched the down to his chest, shivering as the mortars fell around him, raining for the first time in months. The floorboards creaked, the sound an explosion in his head, deafening him too much for him to notice the eyes peering at him through a crack in the door before it was gently shut again.

Morning broke far too early.

Ludwig remained in bed, watching gray light trickle through the lattice slats. He had no job. No reason to leave his room.

He closed his eyes, fighting off heavy exhaustion. He hadn’t slept. Not for lack of trying, there was nothing more he would have liked to do than surrender himself to unconsciousness, but his anxious mind ensured that sleep remained at a distance.

He heard footsteps in the hallway, the familiar cadence of workers with a sole mission. The steady rhythm of their feet was destroyed when they approached his door. They would stop and linger for a few moments, and if there were two sets little whispers would seep in under the door, stoking the paranoid furnace in his brain that would need tending to once it grew to an inferno.

But until then.

Ludwig tugged his blankets over his head, feeling like a pathetic child hoping the sheets would keep things at bay. Just when the light was becoming too intrusive to keep out even with a heavy duvet, he heard the door open. The smell of nutmeg and spices drifted in, and he knew the person before they spoke.

“What do you need, Mrs. Peeters.”

“I brought you some breakfast, dear.”

The head housekeeper’s voice was gentle, and its quiet timbre was enough to make Ludwig abandon his useless shelter and sit up straight. He did his best to smile for her, but her worried expression let him know he was failing to produce anything remotely convincing.

“Thank you. Your kindness is appreciated as always,” he said anyway, dimly aware that he should probably be more concerned about the fact that he was so improperly dressed in front of one of his superiors. But if Peeters wasn’t going to comment on it then neither would he.

“Mr. Kirkland and I are very worried about you,” the housekeeper said, setting the tray down on the small table next to Ludwig’s bed. Eggs and toast and sausages. “It’s rather alarming when a man like Mr. Kirkland expresses worry. I didn’t know he had the capacity.”

Ludwig chuckled because it was expected and then took the tray.

“Well, I can assure you I’m fine,” he lied, sipping the tea she’d brought. “Although I am confined to solitary until the earl says otherwise, so as much as it pains me to do so, I’m afraid I must send you away.”

“Send me away?” The housekeeper raised an eyebrow. “I will respect the earl’s orders only if there is a solid reason for them. The man can let temper cloud his judgment at times, if I may be frank.”

Ludwig’s expression remained impassive, but he had to set his cup down to hide how his hands were shaking.

“There is reason enough, although I’m afraid I cannot divulge anything,” he said with a little smile.

The look Mrs. Peeters fixed him with could have stopped a charging bull, but she smoothed out her skirts and said politely, “I will respect your reticence for now, Mr. Schmidt. We were instructed not to assign you a job for the day, and as we will be busy seeing his grace off, I will have to ask that you remain inside the servants’ quarters and out of the way. It is a bit chaotic right now as the aftermath of the party and its guests still need tending to.”

“I will be neither seen nor heard. I promise.”

“Very good. Take your time, Mr. Schmidt. I will be back to collect the tray when you are finished.”

She softly cleared her throat.

“And a shirt would not go amiss, dear. Even when under the weather or otherwise disengaged from the public eye, I have found that making myself presentable for my own sake does wonders for my peace of mind.”

Ludwig’s cheeks colored slightly and he tugged the blankets up a bit higher.

“Yes, I will see to that,” he mumbled, looking everywhere but at Mrs. Peeters.

She laughed and raised an eyebrow.

“It’s lovely to see you look so flustered, Mr. Schmidt. It’s the most humanity you’ve displayed in front of me yet.”

With a little turn of her heel she made for the door, but Ludwig couldn’t keep from asking.

“Gilbert – Lord Gilbert. How was he last night? You attended the party as well, correct?”

Mrs. Peeters glanced at him curiously.

“…To all of the guests I am sure his young lordship appeared in good spirits,” she said finally. “But Mr. Kirkland and myself noticed a distinct change in him, and it was rather obvious he’d been emotionally compromised somehow. I hesitate to ask, but did the duke… impose himself upon him?”

Ludwig felt a surge of anger take hold of him at the mere thought, but he quickly shook his head and said quietly, “Not that I know of. But he was… he was upset? You could tell?”

“Yes, it was quite obvious to those who knew him well that he was under no small amount of mental distress,” Mrs. Peeters said softly. “He kept to his father’s side all night like an unsure fledgling. I haven’t seen him that way in years. He’s become so obstinately dependent and recalcitrant. It was almost strange to see him acting that way.”

She hesitated, her hand moving closer to her mouth with her fingers slightly bent as though to worry on a fingernail. She checked herself in time, but still her hand hovered around her mouth.

“Lord Gilbert—is everything all right with him? Neither Mr. Kirkland nor I are dim enough to miss the obvious timeliness of your isolation and the young lord’s sudden change in temperament. Did the two of you have a falling out?”

Ludwig cast his eyes downwards.

“I’m afraid I cannot speak on the matter,” he said quietly. “But is he still fine?”

“…As far as I know,” Mrs. Peeters said diplomatically. “I offered to take him away from the festivities earlier but he politely refused me. He was the most gracious he’s ever been. Practically charming.”

A slightly sad look took hold of her, and she smoothed her hands down the front of her dress once more.

“I wonder if attending the function last night made him realize the gravity of his future role at the estate. I can think of nothing else that would so drastically and suddenly alter his mood other than a skirmish with you.” She smiled at Ludwig. “I doubt he would ever admit it being as proud as he is, but the young lord looks up to you so, Mr. Schmidt. He is as devoted to you as your position would demand you be to him.”

“I am sure his future plays a large part in his sudden change in temperament,” Ludwig said, finally lifting his head to smile at Mrs. Peeters. “And I thank you for your kind words, however… baffling I may find them. Lord Gilbert should find a more suitable man to emulate, I believe, than a failed soldier. But if you hear of anything of him displaying any more odd behavior, would you mind telling me? I feel horribly remiss that as his valet I cannot even be at his side.” It would be partially breaking his promise to the earl, but all he was asking for was a status report, nothing more. He would relay no message or do anything to further incite the earl’s anger. He was loathe to jeopardize his future, more for Gilbert’s sake than his own. If they were simply forced apart, that would be considerably less guilt placed on the young lord. And scavenging what he could was the most Ludwig could manage any longer.

Mrs. Peeters returned the smile and gave a little nod.

“Of course. I would be more than happy to. It’s wonderful to have someone to share the burden of raising Gilbert. Do try and eat your food while it’s still hot, Mr. Schmidt. Cold eggs are something no self-respecting man should have to endure.”

With another little smile she finally left, closing the door behind her.

The moment she was gone Ludwig set the tray aside and moved to get dressed, his body working automatically. She had been right. Feigning normalcy was the best he could do, and should the earl fetch him it would be better to appear unruffled and put together rather than a man who couldn’t even force himself out of bed.

Ludwig headed into the bathroom, the noises and smells and afterimages that had plagued him the night before retreating to an ignorable murmur in the back of his head. He carefully scrutinized his appearance, wondering how on earth Mrs. Peeters had been able to resist commenting further. His eyes were swollen again, this time from the mild abuse the day before, and his whole face was puffy from crying. Dark circles ringed his eyes and his hair was horribly unkempt. He did his best to tame it with pomade and combing, but still a few rebellious pieces hung down in his eyes. He finally gave up and set the comb aside and went back into his room. He took his breakfast at the small desk in the corner, his hand itching for ink to try and pen a message to Gilbert, but his conscience stilled his fingers every time. He forced down breakfast, hardly tasting it, and then set the tray outside his room. Thankfully no one was wandering the halls – they were most likely all assisting with the duke’s departure.

He shut and locked the door and then returned to sit at his desk, needing something to distract himself. Most of his books were in Gilbert’s room, writing would quickly turn morose. He picked up the borrowed copy of Milton that he’d read a dozen times or moreand leafed through it, pausing every so often to read the neat little script in the margins. It had originally been Gilbert’s, of course, and the young lord was nothing if not thorough – annotating every little thought that went through his head, marking every phrase of even mild interest.

Ludwig’s fingers paused on a star scribbled next to one of the lines. The words had been underlined so furiously the imprint of the pencil had made its mark on a dozen pages following. In Gilbert’s cramped hand in the margins the phrase had been written over and over again, and Ludwig could hear its ardency in his head.

“Knowledge forbidden?  
Suspicious, reasonless. Why should their Lord  
Envy them that? Can it be a sin to know?  
Can it be death?” 

Ludwig chuckled quietly and pressed his forehead to the book, his eyes finally slipping shut of their own accord.

“You ally yourself with such questionable moralists,” he murmured, his heart aching with the need to see Gilbert, to show him what of his notes he’d rediscovered in the books. It was natural, instinctual to go to him with anything even remotely engaging and to have to stifle such a primitive force took more self-restraint than Ludwig thought he possessed.

He rested his head in his arms, too tired to fight off sleep any further.

A loud knock on the door jostled him out of his dozing. The dark orange light spilling across the floor spoke of evening, and a quick glance at the clock confirmed it.

The knock sounded again, more urgently, and Ludwig quickly picked himself up and made to open the door. He did so and was immediately beset by Gilbert. The young lord ran into his chest so hard it nearly took his breath away, and Ludwig was forced backwards into the room, his heart in his throat.

“Gilbert – you can’t be here,” he said as firmly as he could, but still his voice shook. “If your father –”

It was then that he registered another figure in the doorway, and the hall lamps were lit just enough to make out Kirkland’s impassive expression. Ludwig froze, unable to grasp the circumstances immediately, but after only a moment Kirkland took obvious pity on him.

“His Lordship has been temporarily detained, and Gilbert asked that I take him to see you,” Kirkland said dryly, clasping his hands behind his back. “As his young lordship is neither subtle nor especially crafty, I immediately guessed that his aim was in direct opposition to the earl’s wishes, but I felt I should nonetheless comply. I am moved by the plights of the desperate.”

The butler stared at Gilbert’s back for a moment, the young lord still completely silent. Kirkland sighed and then raised an eyebrow at Ludwig before stepping inside and closing the door.

“I do not feel I can leave you alone with him, but as even I can sense the fraught atmosphere I will turn a blind eye to whatever happens in the next half hour,” he drawled, taking a seat by the door and opening up his scheduling book. “And should his lordship ask, I know absolutely nothing of this.” His eyes narrowed. “I am to meet with him in half an hour’s time. And I can guess as to the contents of that meeting and I must express my disappointment in the both of you.”

“We didn’t ask for your judgment,” Gilbert said sharply, suddenly pushing himself away from Ludwig a bit. His fingers were still caught in the older man’s shirt. “After your meeting Father is going to call Ludwig and that will be the last of it. I will never be alone with him again. Please restrain your mockery in my presence just this once, Kirkland. You can resume your snide cavorting tomorrow.”

Kirkland sighed.

“Is that a wise way to address me, my lord? Considering the magnitude of the favor I am granting you I hoped you would respond with kindness in turn.”

Gilbert fell stubbornly silent at that, and so Ludwig took it upon himself to say a soft, “Thank you, Mr. Kirkland. We appreciate your empathy and discretion.”

“You are welcome, although I would ask that you refrain from coloring my actions as anything but self-servicing.”

Kirkland pulled out a pencil and began to emend the notes in his book.

“The young lord will inherit the estate someday, and by God’s grace I will be serving him for some time after that. I would prefer to remain on the family’s good side, which is a difficult thing when the family is so divided. I have chosen for the time being to ally myself with the future rather than the present. We shall see if my investment is lucrative in the end. But still, not a word, if you please. I am not above denying any culpability.”

“I won’t breathe a word of it to my father if you stay completely silent for the next fifteen minutes,” Gilbert muttered, pressing his face against Ludwig’s chest again.

Kirkland raised a bushy eyebrow but fell obediently quiet, seemingly absorbed in his accounting work.

Ludwig let out a little breath and gently cupped Gilbert’s cheek, tilting his head back so he could study his face. Gilbert’s eyes were swollen and it was quite obvious he’d been crying or otherwise in great distress for the better part of the day. The younger man averted his eyes and mumbled, “I tried to keep myself composed but it was a losing battle from the outset. And now I feel horribly that you are apparently so unruffled and I am closer to falling apart than I ever have been.”

“I’ve spent my whole life learning to feign indifference. That you lack the talent makes you more praiseworthy, not less,” Ludwig said as sincerely as he could, his hand still pressed against Gilbert’s warm cheek. “And I can assure you there is a warzone in my head that has not stopped since I gave us up. I am in no better shape than you.”

Worse, in fact. And they both knew it well.

Gilbert opened his mouth to respond, but then slowly closed it again. His expression fell even further, a twisted look of misery that made Ludwig’s heart break.

“You’re going to tell me I shouldn’t be here, aren’t you,” Gilbert muttered.

“You won’t have to endure me saying what you already know,” Ludwig promised, trying to smile for Gilbert. “Although you are correct. I—I didn’t… I didn’t think I would ever see you again. And somehow in the process of accepting that I think I have forgotten how to speak at all.”

“There isn’t much that needs saying,” Gilbert mumbled, tugging Ludwig to sit down on the bed with him, their backs to the quiescent butler. “My father has promised that this will be dealt with today, and I have no doubt that he intends to keep his word. I have already cried enough to last me a lifetime, I have already said goodbye to you in my head more times than I can count and I still sprung at the chance to see you and rip open the stitches all over again.”

Ludwig remained silent but let his hand rest atop Gilbert’s knee, and soon after the young lord mimicked him.

“Thank you for coming, all the same,” Ludwig finally said, tilting his head to press his cheek against Gilbert’s hair. “I know I should feel guilty for disobeying the earl but what more can he do to me.”

“Follow through with the law and have you locked away,” Gilbert muttered, his fingers tightening against Ludwig’s knee. “I have never felt real fear towards my father or his position, but knowing what he’s capable of with a simple word is outright terrifying.”

He took Ludwig’s hand, threading their fingers together.

“But all I’ve done is miss you,” he said quietly. “Preparing, I suppose. I should have broken in here last night, no one would have stopped me. We could have spent at least a few more hours together but it took until a few minutes ago to build my courage again.”

He let out a broken little laugh and hung his head.

“It feels rather like we’re at the end of a Dickens novel. And I’m forced to watch this corrupted vision of you stand in line for the guillotine, knowing it won’t receive the merciful shelter it deserves after the end. And no one will believe me that innocence is being executed just to allow me to stay locked up here alone.”

Gilbert’s voice slowly began to break, and Ludwig quietly shushed him while the boy cried.

“You aggrandize us too much, Gilbert,” he said softly, carding his fingers through the younger man’s soft hair, the pale blonde tresses like silk against his skin. “This was a fraction of your life – barely a chapter. You will recover, I promise, and—”

“It isn’t me I’m worried about, Ludwig, don’t you understand that?!”

Gilbert pushed himself up, a stricken look on his face. “I’ve given up on myself, I’ve resigned, I’m tractable. I will do whatever my father says I do not care any longer. I will do anything to keep you alive, even if it means I can never speak to you again. I would rather us be miserable and apart and I feel so selfish because of it. I simply don’t want the guilt, I don’t want to feel responsible for another man’s life because of a choice I made when I was seventeen! I’m not like you, Ludwig, I can’t sneak off to war at sixteen and return unscathed. I’m bloodlust and temper and only after it has subsided can I see the damage I’ve done to myself and everything around me.”

He pressed his hands against his face, his voice a sad little cry.

“I’m not brave, Ludwig. I’m not brave, I talk in stories and little reality. My whole life has been nothing but fancied scenarios and when you made me feel something concrete I turned around and smashed you with it. I won’t be able to keep remembering this, I will begin to question every fleeting emotion and listen too enraptured to every doubt, the specifics of you will fade from my memory, touch and voice and face and finally presence until you will be little more than a character to me. Because I’m a coward and would rather relegate you to pretend than face what I’ve done to you.”

Ludwig gently lifted Gilbert’s chin again, tugging his hands away from his eyes.

“I’m fine being fictionalized and forgotten, Gilbert,” he said very softly, remembering with an unpleasant lurch of his stomach that Kirkland was sitting not five feet away from them. He leaned in, pressing his forehead against Gilbert’s to speak only for him. “I would much prefer that to you wasting the rest of your youth memorializing me.”

“But what about you?” Gilbert bumped his nose against Ludwig’s, shifting to sit on his knees and wrap his arms around his neck. Ludwig felt nauseated at the thought of Kirkland seeing them, but when the butler did not so much as stir he cautiously rested his hands on the younger man’s hips, his thumbs lightly tracing the stark bones underneath layers of fabric.

“What about me?” he asked quietly.

Gilbert tilted his head to the side, his lips barely brushing against Ludwig’s.

“Are you a coward like me?”

“No.”

Ludwig closed his eyes.

“I wish I could be so lucky.”

He swallowed heavily and leaned down to press his nose against Gilbert’s. There was no sense in lying to him; it would only hurt to leave a false impression behind. And anything that was left was going to be destroyed eventually, eroded by distance and months until only the slightest relief remained.

“I love you,” he said weakly, the three words the only ones he could possibly say. “I love you so much, my darling. And because of that I will never have the luxury of corrupting what I will always carry of you.”

Gilbert swallowed heavily, his throat bobbing and his shoulders convulsing very slightly. “I wish I could force you to swear you’ll never say that again to anyone,” he said, the affected lightness in his voice painful to listen to. “But it would be unfair to make you take an oath I don’t know if I will be able to keep myself.”

“And I would never ask you to,” Ludwig said immediately, kissing Gilbert again. “I couldn’t.”

But he wanted to. He wanted to so badly his veins were singing with it. To kick Kirkland out of the room and pin Gilbert to the bed and make him promise to never look like that for anyone else again. To gain control of a memento before he had to leave, a robber hoarding what precious treasures he could in the scant few minutes he had left. Something. Anything…

Gilbert slowly pulled back just a bit, his odd eyes sad as he studied Ludwig’s face.

“Liar,” he said softly, his fingers combing through Ludwig’s sideburns, running over the curve of his ears, his jaw. “You could. You simply won’t.”

He leaned forward to rest against his chest, and all Ludwig could do was hold him.

The seconds ticked by, and when the pools of light on the floor had evaporated into a few thin slits, Kirkland shut his book and stood.

“My lord.”

Gilbert let out a desperate whine, his arms tightening around Ludwig. Ludwig pressed his face against the crook of Gilbert’s neck, fighting back exhausted tears.

Kirkland sighed.

“I will give you thirty seconds.”

The door opened and closed, and the moment it did Gilbert was kissing him desperately, his hands burying themselves in his hair, tugging it out of place, his lips stealing every last bit of breath he had. Ludwig squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force his brain to catalogue each sensation, every little noise no matter how sad.

The seconds ticked by, and Gilbert finally pulled away. He ran his sleeve across his eyes and stood, his fingers clutching at Ludwig’s shirt.

“I have to go.”

Ludwig stood as well and gently loosened Gilbert’s grip, linking the slim fingers with his own.

“You don’t have to be brave,” he said quietly. “Remember that if nothing else.”

Gilbert gave a little nod and tilted his head back, staring silently up at Ludwig. He looked as though he’d aged decades, his eyes weary and vacant. Ludwig listened to the distant mortars, felt with a detached wonder the panic boiling under his skin.

Gilbert took a little step away, still holding on to his hand.

“It was never going to end another way, was it.”

Ludwig shook his head and said a very soft, “No.”

“We were never going to run away.”

“No.”

“We were never going to be old together.”

Tears pricked at the corners of Ludwig’s eyes, but still he answered softly.

“No.”

Gilbert’s fingers tightened for a few painful seconds before letting go. His lips twitched up in an empty smile, and he reached out to fix Ludwig’s tie.

“That makes things easier, doesn’t it. Knowing that we played our hands so perfectly that we ended up here. Right where we always would be.”

“Is it?”

Gilbert blinked in surprise and stepped away. Ludwig gave the younger man a sad smile.

“I’ve been obedient all my life,” he said softly. “To my father, to the army. To my position. You were the only rebellious thing I’d ever indulged in, and there were times when I’d hoped you would simply burn all the books and drag me off with you onto a blank page. A part of me hoped you’d never read until the end of our chapter, that you’d somehow see through the natural progression and find a way to distort it. To have the knowledge to know when to rebel and how because I never could do it for myself.”

His eyes softened and he brushed the backs of his fingers against Gilbert’s cheek, his heart clenching painfully when the younger man automatically tilted his head into the touch.

“Such a horrible thing to ask of someone,” he said quietly. “I don’t think I could have gone through with it in the end.”

Gilbert stared up at him sadly with his dead eyes, and then said simply, “For you I would have. But there’s no use in speculating ifs and whats now, farmhand. It’s done. We’ve met our end, and now we’re to say goodbye. If ever I am with you again it will be to see you off, and even I won’t be able to kiss you in front of everyone. So if you want to leave me with anything, now is the time to do it. Otherwise the only thing left is for me to tell you –”

Ludwig leaned down and kissed Gilbert for the last time, just as Kirkland opened the door. He felt the soft lips part against his own, their final words killed immediately at the touch. Slim arms wrapped around his neck, the press of a firm body against his own, angled and muscled from youthful androgyny, warm for what burned inside.

Gilbert was the first to part, his footsteps sure as they pulled away. Ludwig stood still in the middle of his room, watching as Gilbert moved around the bed to Kirkland’s side.

“Goodbye, farmhand.”

The proud figure walked through the door, his shoulders trembling only slightly, and did not look back. It seemed fitting that it should end with a back at the door. A normal departure, a normal greeting.

“Goodbye, my lord.”

The door shut, the footsteps faded.

And Ludwig felt absolutely nothing.

He began to pack what few things he had. He left Gilbert’s books stacked in a neat pile on the corner of his desk, a note for Kirkland with instructions resting on top. He’d been tempted to go back and erase all the notes he’d made in the margins, little responses to Gilbert’s comments, inside jokes they’d shared. It would take too much time to wipe them all out. Gilbert would have to do it.

Ludwig closed the latches on his suitcase and set it atop the bed. There were very few things he’d felt permitted to pack. His notebooks. The suit he owned. The change of clothes he’d worn before moving into the house. Little else.

The clock struck the hour, and he sat back down at the desk. He was hungry but had no appetite. Nor any desire to see the rest of the staff. If the rumors about him before were sparks, they would be a wildfire now. Even those who could not have cared less about scandal and intrigue were bound to be full to the brim with it.

He sat still in his chair, and at seven past the hour there came a knock on his door. Kirkland stepped inside without waiting for a response and nodded towards the former valet.

“His lordship will see you now.”

Ludwig stood and wordlessly followed Kirkland out into the hall. They kept to the servant’s side of the house, and reached the small study in far too little time. Ludwig rested his hand on the latch, but before he could open the door Kirkland stopped him with an arm on his shoulder. The butler turned him around and proceeded to wordlessly straighten his tie and dust off his suit coat.

“Y-You don’t have to – it doesn’t matter, Mr. Kirkland, just leave it,” Ludwig said weakly.

Kirkland slowly tiled his head back to stare up at him, an incredulous look on his face.

“Doesn’t matter, Mr. Schmidt? What else do you have left, if not your pride? Indulge it just this little bit and tell me it doesn’t matter,” he said, his voice its normal monotonous drawl. He patted Ludwig’s shoulder.

“His foul temper has abated, for the most part, but choose your words with discretion, Mr. Schmidt. If you please.”

Ludwig gave a sharp nod and tried to smile at the butler.

“Thank you, Mr. Kirkland,” he said quietly. “I feel more indebted to you than ever before.”

“As well you should,” Kirkland said blandly. “I am one of a few small number who would risk their position just to help a debauched rebel. See to it that my kindness is not wasted.”

“Of course.”

Kirkland raised an eyebrow and then let out a little sigh.

“I will wait outside to escort you to wherever your destination may be. “

“Thank you,” Ludwig said softly, pressing down on the latch. “I won’t be long.”

He heard Kirkland snort quietly, but the butler did not otherwise respond. Ludwig pushed open the door and stepped inside the small sitting room. The earl was seated at a desk in the corner, and he looked up when Ludwig took another step forward. He glanced back down at his papers almost immediately.

“Shut the door, Mr. Schmidt.”

Ludwig obeyed wordlessly.

The earl spent a few more moments in silence, skimming whatever it was he was reading, and Ludwig stood silently by. Finally Lord Horschhorn stood and walked over towards him, stopping a few feet away. Ludwig kept his eyes fixed on the floor as the older man regarded him, too tired to even feel fear any longer.

“Do you have anything you wish to say before I hand down my verdict?”

Ludwig shook his head, and said quietly, “No, my lord. I can recognize futility when I am confronted with it.”

“Not even an expression of remorse?”

“It would be a lie and little else, my lord. You are free to think of it as sick or debased, but I cannot feel regret for what I have done.”

He heard the earl sigh, and risked raising his head. The earl was staring at him with narrowed eyes, his lips pressed in a thin line.

“You and my son share that unwelcome trait in common,” he muttered. “I cannot help but wonder if it was mere stubbornness that led things down such an unwholesome path.”

“I cannot deny it played some part, my lord, but—”

“That was speculation, Mr. Schmidt. I do not desire your commentary.”

Ludwig quickly shut his mouth.

The earl clasped his hands behind his back, falling silent for a moment longer before he spoke again.

“I have decided to handle this incident myself. I wish to keep the number of people who are aware of the situation to an absolute minimum. For whatever reason Gilbert is adamant about your defense, and if I were to follow through with the law I believe it is highly unlikely he would ever forgive me.”

The earl looked away, and Ludwig lifted his head again just in time to catch a trembling of the older man’s lip. Despite the relief the lenient sentence brought, Ludwig felt no joy in it. He would not go to prison for the time being, but that did not mean his future was in anything but shambles. He had no job, no home. He would receive no letter of approval from his former employer, which meant that procuring a position in any remotely reputable establishment would be nearly impossible. Not even as a farm worker.

But the little tremble was enough to catch his weary interest.

“My lord? Are you well?”

The earl glanced at him, his eyes vacant.

“…I cannot expect you to understand the absolute horror you feel when you discover that someone has hurt one of your children,” he said, his voice careful and even. “The urge to retaliate is very nearly primal in its intensity. When you confessed the details of your relationship for a moment the mad thought took my brain that I should feel no rest until I saw you hang. For that fraction of a second you ceased to exist as the man I had taken into my household and come to know quite well – or so I had thought.”

Lord Horschhorn’s lips pulled up in a bitter smile.

“But in the end, it seems the only one of us who has truly injured Gilbert is me. Last night he was inconsolable. He begged for you, to see you one last time.”

The man closed his eyes, and pressed his hand against his face.

“He was so desperate. So utterly stricken. The only thought that came to mind was of the women I used to see at the pier when I was younger. Who had waited months for the return of a brother or husband and received only words. Some flung themselves into the sea, and smiled when the waves took them. Last night when Gilbert had finally quieted, he looked out the window, and I saw that same desire in him. To let himself be consumed by an uncaring nature rather than slowly succumb to despair. And as much as I wish it were not the case, if he finds solace in a more eternal rest, I am the one who forced his hand.”

Lord Horschhorn slowly stood up straight again, and Ludwig squared his shoulders as well, unsure what to make of the speech.

“My son will forget you, Mr. Schmidt. In time,” the earl said, his voice calm once more.”I am sure you are quite aware of this yourself, and I can promise you I will do everything in my power to expedite that process.”

“I understand, my lord,” Ludwig said, his fingers itching for the door latch. Now that he knew, he just wanted to leave. He could endure no more of this pointless verbal whipping. The earl only spoke of things he already knew well, the self-same words he’d repeated to himself over and over again.

The door opened behind them, and Ludwig turned, expecting to see Mr. Kirkland coming to fetch him. Instead a pair of blue eyes peered nervously through the crack in the door, and a moment later Roderich stepped inside.

“Uncle?”

Lord Horschhorn sighed.

“Roderich, now isn’t—”

“Eliza’s crying,” the boy said, his voice frantic. “She’s crying and won’t stop – I’ve never seen her cry so much before, she said you’re sending Mr. Schmidt away.” The boy shot Ludwig a glare that held him responsible.

“I am,” the earl said calmly. “Tell her to come see me, if she—”

Those were apparently the magic words, for a moment later the study door burst open and Eliza came careening inside. She immediately latched onto Ludwig’s legs, hugging him tightly. Ludwig’s face paled and he quickly tried to disentangle himself from the girl.

“Eliza—my lady, please let go,” he hissed, terrified that the earl would somehow take this out on him or on Gilbert as well.

“No!” Eliza snapped, letting out a little hiccup. “No, no, no I won’t let go if Uncle sends you away he’ll have to send me too!”

“Eliza, please—”

“Shut up, Roderich, I don’t want to hear another word out of your bratty mouth!” She sniffled loudly. “What do you know, what do you understand you’re just a jealous little boy!”

Roderich staggered backwards as though the girl’s words had been a physical blow. He glared half-heartedly at Ludwig again, and then hissed, “I’m glad you’re gone. You’ve ruined everything.”

With that, the boy ran out of the room, leaving the crying girl behind.

The earl let out a heavy sigh.

“Eliza, this kind of behavior is unacceptable. I have made my decision.”

“Then at least tell me why!” the girl snapped, pulling away from Ludwig just so she could glare at her uncle. “Your decisions are never this arbitrary, something must have happened! None of the staff will tell me, Auntie refuses to leave her room and I can’t find Gilbert anywhere. Something happened, I know it did, and I—”

“Eliza.”

The girl stopped speaking when Ludwig said her name. She tilted her head back, staring up at him, her green eyes wide and glassy.

Ludwig carefully knelt down and offered the young girl his handkerchief. She took it after a moment and dabbed at her eyes before glancing up at him again.

“No one will tell me,” she mumbled. “And I don’t want you to go. Not just for me, but for Gilbert. We talked, remember? In the cellar? And you said – you said you promised you’d take care of him. But now you’re leaving so you can’t possibly keep your promise. You’re a liar, you’re a liar and if you didn’t make Gilbert so happy I would spit on you and kick you out myself. And – a-and then feel badly about it and fetch you again but…”

She sniffed and pressed the handkerchief against her face.

“This is me taking care of him, my lady. I promise,” Ludwig said gently, the girl’s earnest hatred of him something of a relief. “I can’t explain it to you now, but someday Gilbert will tell you, I’m sure.”

“Mr. Schmidt. Careful,” the earl said quietly.

Ludwig glanced over his shoulder at the man, his eyes narrowing.

“He will,” he said, standing up again. “Someday he will tell her. Gilbert cares about Eliza too much to keep something this big from her. We both know it, my lord. There is no use in pretending. And neither of us has any control over Gilbert. Not to that degree. We would not be here were that the case.”

A little hand tugged on his pocket, and Ludwig looked down at Eliza again. She held up his handkerchief.

“He’ll tell me someday?” she asked quietly.

“I’m sure of it,” Ludwig said, offering her a little smile. “As I said, he cares for you deeply, my lady. He won’t keep this from you for forever. But now is… it’s a delicate time, and he’s in pain.”

He knelt down again and held out his hand, ignoring the earl’s sharp intake of breath.

“And while my leaving is me caring for Gilbert, it does mean that I won’t be here,” he said quietly. “So will you watch out for him? Make sure he’s happy, and—”

He had to stop speaking as a lump lodged itself in his throat. Elizaveta studied him carefully, and then gave a formal nod.

“I will,” she promised. “I hate to see him sad. I will do whatever I can to keep that at bay.”

She suddenly hugged him around the waist, and Ludwig returned the little gesture.

“Thank you, my lady,” he said quietly, laughing when she punched his arm and grumbled, “Just Eliza, Ludwig. I’m not your lady any longer.”

“No, you’re not,” he agreed, discretely drying his face before standing. She stared up at him, a somber look on her face.

“Is this goodbye forever, or just for now?”

“Forever, I’m afraid,” Ludwig said, straightening his lapels.

“Until Heaven?”

He hesitated and then nodded very slightly.

“Until heaven,” he repeated quietly. “But I hope that journey is a long while off for you.”

“Yes. I don’t think I’m done here just yet,” the little girl said solemnly. She hugged his legs again and then said in her sweet little voice, “Goodbye, Ludwig. I’m – I-I’m going to go be alone now so I can cry. Please don’t think my sudden departure rude.”

She gave a little curtsey, and then with one last look back at the door, left.

The moment they were alone the earl let out a slow breath.

“Her unhappiness will fade as well. They are children.”

“Thank you for the reminder, my lord. I don’t believe I will require another,” Ludwig said as politely as he could, folding his handkerchief and placing it back in his pocket.

“The fact that you are not going to jail does not grant you a license for rudeness, Mr. Schmidt,” the earl said, his tone lacking any bite.

Ludwig merely glanced at the man and then dismissed him. There was nothing left to discuss. Except –

“Have you managed to locate my father, my lord?”

The earl’s expression turned grim.

“I have not. He has not left the village via train, I can promise that much. I have asked all of the station personnel to be on the alert for him. It is unlikely he has managed to procure other transport in such a short time, so I believe he is still somewhere in the village. I have no interest in prosecuting him so long as he keeps to himself and spreads no word of this to anyone. Should the tiniest whisper leave him, however, I will have him arrested on the spot. I’m sure we can find a charge that would stick.”

“That is a very optimistic outcome, my lord, but I wish you the best should you find it necessary to go through with it.”

“Thank you.” The earl glanced at his watch. “There is a train leaving at nine o’clock tonight. You are to be on that train. We will offer you a ride into the village, and that will be the end of this.”

Ludwig closed his eyes. Nine o’clock. Four hours time.

“I understand, my lord.”

A cloying silence stifled the room, and then the earl said quietly, “I am… honestly sorry to see you go, Mr. Schmidt. Were the circumstances slightly different –”

“I require no affected change of heart, my lord,” Ludwig said stiffly. “You have made it very clear that I am no longer welcome here.”

“I am allowed to be torn about this, Mr. Schmidt. The role of innocent victim does not suit you,” the earl said, staring down the younger man. “I did not make this decision lightly. On the contrary, once my anger subsided it was incredibly difficult to follow through with this. My son is brokenhearted and inconsolable, my niece loathes me, my wife refuses to speak with me, and I am losing one of the very best servants this manor has seen. There is no winner here, Mr. Schmidt, save perhaps your father. If this is truly what he wished for, to see his son raked across the coals, then he is the only victorious one. And I find no pleasure in that.”

“…Nor do I, my lord,” Ludwig said quietly, looking away once more. He was being selfish, he knew, indulging in his pity. Eliza’s anger had been proof enough of that.

He heard the earl move closer, but could only stare in surprise when the man held out his hand.

“Never come near my family again,” the earl said quietly. “And I thank you for your service, Mr. Schmidt.”

Ludwig faltered for a moment and then carefully took the older man’s hand and gave it a single shake before letting go.

“Thank you, my lord. For your faith in me.”

The earl let out a bitter laugh.

“Resilient to the end. It is little wonder you survived the war.”

He turned and headed back to his desk, picking up his papers again.

“See yourself out, Schmidt. Mr. Kirkland will assist you with anything you further require.”

Ludwig studied the man hunched over his desk, listening to the little patter of liquid against the paper. He bowed very slightly, and then left, the door closing noiselessly behind him.

True to his word, Kirkland was waiting in the hallway. He raised an eyebrow at Ludwig’s expression, but did not comment.

“Your bags have been brought down to the kitchens. His lordship wishes that you leave through the servant’s exit, for obvious reasons.”

“Thank you, Mr. Kirkland.”

The butler snorted quietly and tucked his hands into his pockets as they walked.

“Arthur.”

Ludwig frowned and turned to stare questioningly at the older man. Kirkland remained facing straight ahead.

“I do have a first name, Mr. Schmidt,” he said dryly. “And seeing as how you are no longer my underling, I think it malapropos that you continue to refer to me so respectfully. Arthur will do, for these last few minutes we are to spend together.”

Ludwig’s lips twitched upwards in a very small smile.

“…Thank you, Arthur,” he said quietly. “For what it’s worth coming from someone like me.”

“It’s worth quite a bit, Mr. Schmidt, regardless of your own low opinion of yourself,” Kirkland said, holding open the door to the servant’s quarters for Ludwig. “His young lordship took a unique shine to you. It seems unlikely to me that you are an ordinary individual, given those odd circumstances. I cannot say I have enjoyed witnessing your demise, but it has given me something to mull over in the few minutes a day my mind can spare the time. Things will be different with you gone, and I am vexed at your loss.”

“Vexed?” Ludwig couldn’t help but press, noticing the irritated look on the butler’s face.

“Incredibly vexed, Mr. Schmidt, that I will never be able to hire another valet for his young lordship.”

Ludwig stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening.

“May – may I ask why?”

“Lord Gilbert has forbidden it. I would have thought that obvious,” Kirkland said, stopping as well. “For better or worse, you have changed this household, Mr. Schmidt. And I do not know what will happen when Lord Gilbert inherits the estate, but I suspect there will be further changes. That is all I can say.”

He lifted his chin, gesturing down the corridor towards the kitchens.

“If you would be so kind as to wait in the kitchens while I have Mr. Vargas bring the car around.”

“Of course,” Ludwig said quietly, but made no move to leave.

Kirkland raised an eyebrow.

“Must I carry you, Mr. Schmidt?”

“Huh? Oh – n-no,” Ludwig stammered, shoving his hands in his pockets as well. “I… I merely wanted to… ah…”

“I find that thinking first and then opening one’s mouth tends to yield better results,” Kirkland said politely.

Ludwig forced back his irritated glare and met the butler’s eyes again. He took a moment to sort out his thoughts, and then spoke.

“I wanted to thank you again, Mr. Kirkland.”

“Again?” Kirkland hummed. “Goodness. Whatever will I do with this abundance of monetarily useless gratitude.”

“I know you’re grateful for it, despite its uselessness,” Ludwig pressed on, his cheeks coloring slightly. “You’re the only one who still treats me like a gentleman, the… the only one who knows and still does, I should say. I know I don’t deserve it—”

“Stop.”

Kirkland held up a hand and Ludwig immediately shut his mouth.

The butler looked him over for a moment before saying, “Men are worth more than whom they love, Mr. Schmidt. If you had merely been indulging in sexual gratification I would not bother to spare you the time of day, let alone any shred of respect or even acknowledgement. You were devoted. Utterly so, and very… loved. I believe.”

He cleared his throat, looking, for the first time since Ludwig had met him, flustered.

“Mr. Kirkland—”

“This household will miss you, Mr. Schmidt,” the butler interrupted, composing himself once more in an instant. “And I do very much count myself among that number. I will ask Mr. Vargas to bring the car around. If you would please head to the kitchens.”

Kirkland politely gestured towards the door, and then turned and made his way down the hall in the opposite direction. Ludwig watched the butler until he turned a corner and disappeared from view, and still he did not move for a very long time, wanting to remember the conversation in its entirety. He repeated it over and over in his head, clinging to the words until he was sure they would not leave him before he had a moment to put them to paper.

He finally pushed open the doors to the kitchens and headed inside.

And was greeted by nearly the entire staff.

He balked immediately, taking a few steps backwards. The staff was arranged in order of importance, with the scullery maids clinging to the back lines and the footmen up front. Mrs. Peeters was nowhere to be seen. In the middle of the pack stood Alex, his arms crossed over his chest, and his handsome face twisted into a triumphant smirk.

“We’ve come to see you off, Mr. Schmidt. With such short notice we didn’t have time to plan a party, but I encouraged everyone to gather all the same,” the footman said, his voice light and airy. “What a pity it is that you have to leave us so soon.”

Ludwig stared at the footman, a quiet rage he had only once ever felt before slowly building under his skin. The last time he’d felt it, he’d had to flee to India to put a distance between himself and his actions.

He honestly couldn’t say he minded picturing Alex on the receiving end of his rage.

“Send these people away, Alex,” he said quietly. “You don’t want witnesses for this.”

“Goodness, how unnecessarily hostile,” Alex said, his smile widening. “But I’m afraid everyone has yet to even arrive. It would be incredibly rude to cancel your going away so prematurely.”

An angry growl forced its way past Ludwig’s lips, and he took a step forward.

“There is nothing to hold me back this time. Do not test me,” he snarled.

Alex held up his hands, the smile never leaving his face. Ludwig heard the door open behind him, and then a familiar voice.

“Alex, why in God’s name would—”

Ludwig whirled around, staring at Gilbert, who looked equally surprised to see him. The young lord’s eyes slowly narrowed, and he stepped to the side to fix Alex with a steely glare.

“Explain why you lied and said Ludwig had already left just to call me down here and reveal your dishonesty so soon,” Gilbert said very quietly. The rest of the staff cast Alex an uneasy look and backed away, some of them leaving through the kitchen door.

Alex calmly fished a piece of paper out of his pocket and held it up.

“I thought the two of you would be interested in this. It’s the note I was to bring to the earl on the night of the party.”

His smile widened.

“For whatever reason it made Mr. Schmidt go into a complete panic and accost the earl. And in the middle of such a lovely party.”

Ludwig’s stomach lurched when he recognized the paper. It had to be the evidence his father had been threatening him with, or some sort of defamatory statement.

Gilbert took a step closer to Ludwig.

“Alex. What does that letter say.”

His voice was warped with murderous intent.

“Oh, this?”

Alex made to unfold the paper, and Ludwig tensed involuntarily, his eyes trained on the scrap. He felt the back of Gilbert’s hand brush against his, and wished he could take it in his own.

The paper fell open completely, and Alex held it up, smiling.

“A telegram,” he said calmly. “Informing the earl that his shipment of flowers reached his mother’s estate intact.”

Ludwig stared at the piece of paper, reading the few lines of text written on it. It was as Alex said. A simple telegram.

There had never been a grand plan. No larger scheme. There was no evidence, they had never thought for an instant that the earl would listen to their accusations.

It was a house of cards. And all they’d had to do was apply the slightest breath of paranoid wind.

He looked up as Alex laughed, folding the letter back into his pocket.

“I knew it would be easy to trick a former field worker into acting rash, but to think that even an earl’s son could be so incredibly naive.” He smirked at Gilbert, his tongue darting out to slightly wet his lips. “They do say that the prettiest ones tend to be the dullest, though. I suppose that’s what got you into bed with your valet in the first—”

Ludwig balled his hands into fists, and made to lunge at the man, wanting to finish what he’d started those few days ago. But before he could so much as twitch, a white blur slammed into Alex, knocking him back into the crowd of servants. They quickly got out of the way, picking themselves up and moving to help Alex.

Until they saw who it was.

Gilbert stood above the fallen footman, staring coldly down at him. He slammed his foot against Alex’s ribcage, pinning the man to the floor with a loud cracking noise. His face was red with anger and his lips pulled back in a horrible animalistic snarl. Alex let out a little groan and tried to pick himself up, but Gilbert stomped on his ribs again, and the groan quickly morphed into a loud cry of pain.

“I didn’t say you could get up.”

The servants all backed away even more, abandoning Alex immediately to his fate. But none left, peering through gaps between fingers and out of the corners of their eyes, they watched, saying nothing.

Gilbert picked up his foot, clicking his tongue in disgust when Alex flinched. He slowly lowered himself to the ground until he was kneeling on either side of the prone man. He suddenly grabbed Alex’s collar, yanking him upright and staring him dead in the eye.

“I’m going to ruin you.”

The words were so soft everyone in the kitchens took an unconscious step closer to listen. Ludwig remained where he was, able to read Gilbert’s threats in the slight movements of his lips.

Alex’s eyes widened, but before he could speak Gilbert clamped a hand over his mouth.

“No. No, you don’t get to talk anymore,” he snarled, his voice rising in volume. “You want to fuck me, Alex? You want to take Ludwig’s job and undress me and fuck me and blackmail me into keeping silent? That’s what you told Ludwig you wanted to do in as many words. That you liked how I looked, that you wondered what sorts of noises I made. Whether that was just a ploy to incite his anger and steal his position or a genuine expression of your lasciviousness I don’t care.”

His lips spit open in a wild grin, and he pressed his forehead against Alex’s, ignoring the man’s terrified whimpers.

“The difference between us, Alex, is that I have absolutely nothing left to lose,” he said, his fingers tightening against Alex’s mouth until little marks were left on his cheeks. “I have nothing, and you make a very convenient target for my anger. A very doomed one at that. Do you think my father will forgive someone in his household for speaking like that to me? For insinuating that I would bed the first man to show interest in my poor, vapid self?”

Alex’s eyes darted up to fix on Ludwig’s face for a moment, and Gilbert immediately grabbed the man’s chin and forced him to meet his eyes again instead.

“We’re not talking about him, Alex,” he said sweetly, his red eyes burning with suppressed fury. “In fact, you aren’t talking about anything at all, as I mentioned previously. Breathe one word, a single word, and I will expel you from these grounds. I will see to it that you will be sent back to your old job. I’m sure you remember what it’s like shoveling coal below sea level for weeks and weeks on end. And I’m sure you remember that there are plenty of men there that share your same aesthetic, Alex. Your lust might finally find an outlet. Or rather, I should say, you might find yourself being used as one. Sailors get lonely, and I can promise you with my connections it would be incredibly easy to find a ship full of the loneliest men in the world.”

He shoved the footman back against the stone floor and stood, dusting himself off. He turned and glanced up at Ludwig, a grim smile on his face. Ludwig returned it, and instantly Gilbert’s expression changed to one of utter longing. He took a step forward, and Ludwig could see his intentions in his eyes.

“Don’t,” he said softly, the single word ripping out his heart. He swallowed heavily and shook his head. “Don’t, Gilbert. Don’t give in. Don’t waste this sacrifice.”

Gilbert looked utterly crushed, but after a long moment he nodded. Instead, he took Ludwig’s hand and held it very tightly for a long while, his long fingers pressing against the pulse point in his wrist. Ludwig discretely brushed his thumb against the back of Gilbert’s hand, feigning innocent camaraderie, not wanting to be the first to let go. There was nothing more they could do in front of an audience. It would only turn Alex’s ravings from lunacy to truth, and destroy what little goodwill the earl had left with Ludwig.

Behind Gilbert, Alex slowly pushed himself to his feet, coughing horribly. He opened his mouth, an infuriated expression taking hold of him. Ludwig glanced over Gilbert’s shoulder at the man, a part of him almost wanting to warn the groomsman not to anger Gilbert further. But he wasn’t that kind, and let him speak.

“You little bit—”

Without warning, Gilbert turned around and punched Alex square in the face. His nose exploded with blood and he let out a horrible scream, staggering backwards until he hit a table and fell to the ground. Gilbert swore heavily and shook out his hand, dancing from foot to foot in pain.

“Mother of God. I thought punching an already broken nose would be easier on the joints,” he complained, ignoring the horrified cries of the staff around him. The door leading outside opened up, and Kirkland stepped inside. Immediately everyone fell silent, save for Alex who was still groaning on the floor. The butler took in the situation silently, regarding the fallen groomsman and the smirking Gilbert with a look of utter indifference.

“Do you require my assistance, Lord Gilbert?”

“Yes, Kirkland, I do,” Gilbert said, tucking his injured hand in his pocket. “Inform my father that this piece of garbage has been terminated. I gave him a fair warning, and he chose to insult me instead and imply horrible, untrue things about my person and my former valet. This household will no longer be requiring his assistance.”

“Very good, my lord.”

Kirkland stepped over Alex’s body as though it weren’t there and stopped in front of Ludwig.

“The car is ready, Mr. Schmidt. You must leave now if you are to catch your train.”

“Thank you, Arthur,” Ludwig said quietly. The staff shifted uncomfortably, obviously wanting to correct Ludwig’s address. Ludwig thought caught a hint of a smirk on the butler’s normally impassive face for a moment before it was quickly replaced with indifference.

“I’ve taken the liberty of stowing your luggage for you. I hope you don’t mind. The last of your pay will be wired to your account, and from there you will be able to transfer it wherever you wish.”

“I don’t mind at all. You’re too kind to help me so, Arthur.”

Ludwig glanced at Gilbert again, a small smile on his face. He bowed his head slightly.

“Thank you, my lord. For all you have done for me.”

Gilbert gave a sharp nod, cradling his injured hand against his chest.

“Take care, farmhand,” he said quietly. “And safe travels, wherever they may take you.”

Ludwig’s smile softened, and he reached out to lightly touch Gilbert’s shoulder before Kirkland cleared his throat. He straightened his shoulders and walked past the rest of the quiet staff and out into the back road.

The door shut behind him, and he had to take a moment to compose himself before approaching the car. Even so his cheeks were wet when he climbed into the cab, and when Lovino attempted to engage him in conversation – made up largely of complaints and personal insults – he ignored it all in favor of silence. He turned around to watch the manor disappear as the car trundled down the road. He fixed his eyes on Gilbert’s window, and just as the car rounded the last bend to turn into the woods, he saw it open. A little patch of white appeared framed in the glass, and for a wonderful, horrifying moment, he thought the figure was about to leap after him.

The forest swallowed the last glimpse of the manor, and the little patch of white was lost.

Ludwig pressed his hands against his face, the roar of the engine drowning out his last, whispered words.

It took nearly an hour for the car to reach the train station, and when Ludwig disembarked he felt as though his head had been wrapped in a vice. He took his luggage without help (a single suitcase didn’t require much) and bid the driver a steely goodbye. Lovino rolled his eyes and hopped back into the driver’s seat, muttering about ingrates.

Ludwig checked the time, listening to the car bully its way back up the slight hill towards the manor road. He still had a few hours before the train left.

Good.

He checked his luggage with the station master and then followed the path into the village proper.

He started with the inn. It was mismanaged, but even so a trace might have accidentally remained. Ludwig tried every pseudonym he could think of until finally he got a hit.

A trail three days old.

Next he checked the pubs. First the seedier ones, then working his way up through the ranks. The higher he went the more likely he knew a spotting would be. And sure enough, at the Hen the barkeep remembered an older man who wore glasses. Slight limp on his right side.

Two days old.

Ludwig stood in front of the hospital, staring up at the second floor. He’d only been there once before, when the family had gone to see the new wing they’d helped fund. He and Gilbert had snuck off to look at the surgery ward. Gilbert had ended up vomiting and then declaring that he was to never be ill.

Ludwig pushed open the door and headed inside.

The receptionist looked up from her clipboard, a look of recognition on her face.

“Ah – Mr. Schmidt, yes? From the manor?”

“Formerly of,” Ludwig corrected her, trying to smile. The charm his father was able to procure at a moment’s notice was often far out of his reach. He’d never been a natural.

The woman’s smile faltered slightly, and she looked unsure as to whether or not to apologize. Or maybe call the police.

Ludwig quickly held up a hand.

“We parted on good terms,” he quickly reassured her. It was only half a lie. “Not to worry. My visit is unrelated to my current status.”

The woman relaxed and let out a little laugh. “Ah, I see. Well then, how may I help you, Mr. Schmidt?”

“I’m looking for a man – an applicant for work at the manor,” Ludwig explained, resting his hands on the counter. “Lord Horschhorn felt badly that he was unable to offer him the position, and so sent me to give him a train ticket. As a gesture of good will.”

“How very like the man. His generosity continues to inspire,” the woman said happily. “May I have the name, please?”

Ludwig put an embarrassed look on his face and rubbed the back of his neck.

“I’m afraid that’s where the trouble comes in. You see I seem to have…forgotten it.” He gave the woman a weak smile. “I was in a hurry when I disembarked from the cab and all my notes are most likely being carted back towards the manor as we speak.”

“Oh… I see. Well we could give the manor a ring, or—”

“That won’t be necessary,” Ludwig said, keeping the disarming smile on his face. “I believe you will recognize the man. He’s of rather large build, graying hair, glasses. He was most likely admitted for back pain.”

The easiest injury to fake. Ensuring doctors would be prudent enough not to move you, but needing to show no symptom other than a disinclination to move. If it wasn’t back pain, it would be upset stomach. Purposefully ingesting an emetic was a last resort. Too harmful on the body if done enough.

The woman looked unsure for a moment, but then said cheerfully, “L-Let me check our records…”

“Please.”

She quickly hunched down over her clipboard and flies, and Ludwig stood by as patiently as he could.

“Ah.”

Ludwig lifted his head. The woman looked pleased.

“We have three patients here for back pain care, but only one of them is male,” she said, holding out the clipboard towards Ludwig. “Frederick Leeds. He’s on floor three, but if you like, I can take the ticket and pass it on to—”

“I’m sure the earl would much prefer I hand deliver it,” Ludwig cut her off, offering her an apologetic smile. She nodded. “Very well, Mr. Schmidt. I’ll sign you in.”

“Oh, there’s no need. This won’t take long,” Ludwig said reassuringly, turning and heading towards the stairs.

He made his way up to the third floor in silence, and then stopped in the hallway, listening. Sure enough.

He followed the cacophonous din of snoring, stopping in front of one of the far rooms. He pushed open the door and stepped inside, moving to the single occupied bed.

Eldritch lay asleep, his limbs carefully tucked underneath starched sheets. There was a brace around his neck, a simple cushioned one, and Ludwig wasted no time in yanking the straps aside and tugging the thing off.

Eldritch immediately bolted upright, his eyes narrowing.

“Wot in ‘ell’s name—”

He immediately stopped talking and stared at Ludwig, his lips slowly curling into a smile.

“Found me, did ya? Took ya long enough. Thought I’d trained you better.”

Ludwig tossed aside the neck brace, ignoring Eldritch’s complaint of ‘I needed that…’

“I’m here to make a deal with you.”

Eldritch raised an eyebrow, his smile turning calculating.

“The fact that yer ‘ere means I already won,” he pointed out, stretching and popping his back before leaning against the headboard. “Wot makes you think I’m interested in any deal you ‘ave ‘t offer?”

“Because I’m giving you a choice,” Ludwig said quietly. “I told the earl everything. He knows exactly what kind of man you are, and I have left behind in the manor enough personal accounts and evidence to ensure your appearance will be slandered enough that you will never be able to complete another job. The earl is incredibly powerful and influential. As you know.”

“Yer bluffin’,” Eldritch said bluntly. “I can read it all over yer face. Never were very good at that part.”

“It doesn’t matter if I am or not. Because here are your options.”

He took a seat next to the bed and rested his elbows on his knees, staring into his father’s eyes.

“Your first choice is to leave the village and to give up any further schemes you may have regarding the family. Your man inside the manner has been ousted. You’ve lost any credibility there. You’ve no reason to stay, other than to make me anxious.”

Eldritch chuckled lowly, his fingers stroking his rough cheeks.

“Well that’s where yer wrong,” he murmured. “Just ‘cos you left doesn’t mean that boy’s reputation can’t be tarnished. ‘E’ll be leavin’ for university soon, I’d wager. Just have t’ stay ‘ere long enough t’ learn where, an’ then follow ‘im. I hear schoolboys can be very vicious with their rumors. Should be easy enough t’ find a few enemies of ‘is. Or make ‘em, at any rate.”

Ludwig fell silent, honestly shocked.

“You – I’ve left,” he said slowly. “I thought all you wanted was to see me out, defeated—”

“An’ that’s why you’re pathetic,” Eldritch said calmly. “When ‘ave I ever let my actions be ruled by somethin’ as small as emotional gratification? You lose sight o’ the long con. The gains t’ be made. I could milk this family fer th’ foreseeable future. An’ no ‘alf-assed threats o’ yers are gonna be enough t’ deter me.”

Ludwig closed his eyes, doing his best to suppress his anger. It would be so easy to give in. To punch the man, push him over towards the window. Watch him fall and simply be done.

But he didn’t want a haunting. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself, even after simply exterminating vermin.

He opened his eyes again and fixed Eldritch with an even stare.

“As I said,” he said quietly. “You have two choices. I have outlined the first. You leave. It’s very simple. You never go near the family again. You never breathe a word about them. I’ll even increase its appeal. You can have half my savings. To do with what you will.”

Eldritch paused at that, his brows furrowing before he shrugged his shoulders, obviously dismissing the deal.

“Valets make pennies. I’ve looked into it.”

He smirked.

“Go on, then. Wot’s the second choice?”

Ludwig narrowed his eyes and sat up a bit straighter.

“I won’t leave.”

Eldritch blinked slowly.

“…Pardon?”

“I won’t leave,” Ludwig repeated, resting his hands on his knees. “I’ll stay with you. Wherever you go. I think I’ve proved in the past half hour of looking for you that you’re not very hard to track if someone knows your habits and tricks.”

He smiled politely.

“And I believe I’m acquainted with them. Fairly well.”

Eldritch stared at his son and then laughed quietly.

“So you’ll stalk me forever. That wot yer sayin’?”

“That is exactly what I’m saying,” Ludwig said calmly, standing up. “I have nothing better to do than ensure that the remainder of your life is spent in continuous failure. I will take it upon myself to divulge every scheme you attempt to concoct. Every broken down automobile, every feigned injury, every forged insurance claim, every attempt at backstabbing, murder, rumor. It won’t be hard. I have little trouble keeping track of a target once I know its location. And look. There you are.”

“You don’t ‘ave the guts.”

All humor suddenly left Eldritch’s voice He stood, staring down at his son with a horrible sneer on his face.

“You’d ‘ave to sink t’ my level t’ do it, an’ I know yer too high an’ mighty t’ demean yerself like that. You wouldn’t shut the ‘ell up about it when you were a little brat. That yer better than me ‘n yer mum.”

Ludwig pushed himself to his feet and met his father’s eyes.

“As I said. I’ve nothing better to do.”

He smiled.

“So which will it be. Bribery or cat and mouse.”

Eldritch studied Ludwig’s face for a very long time, and Ludwig for his part did not so much as flinch under the scrutiny.

Finally Eldritch pulled away, clicking his tongue.

“…Seems you’ve gotten a bit better at bluffin’. Can’t tell which is th’ lie or if they both are,” he muttered. “Knew you ‘ad promise. Never thought it’d be turned on me. Mildly irritatin’, that.”

“I live to be a mild irritant to you, Eldritch,” Ludwig said quietly, glancing at his watch. Half an hour. “Make your decision. You have thirty seconds.”

“Thirty sec—oi, give a man a break ‘ere,” Eldritch protested. “This ain’t easy – Took all I ‘ad t’ get those officers’ and staff’s testimonials an’ other evidence. I can’t just waste it—”

“Twenty.”

Eldritch growled and pulled back his fist to strike, but Ludwig quickly stepped in and slammed the heel of his palm against the underside of Eldritch’s chin. His teeth slammed together with a horrible noise, and the man staggered back, unsteady on his feet. Ludwig shook out his hand and glanced at his watch.

“Ten.”

“W-Wait,” Eldritch croaked. “My brain’s still spinnin’—”

“Good thing you’re already at a hospital,” Ludwig murmured, keeping his eyes on the second hand. “Five. Four. Three. T—”

“Money.”

Ludwig lowered his hand and stared at his father.

Eldritch pushed himself up, rubbing at his jaw.

“Bloody ‘ell. Didn’t know you could even throw a proper punch or whatever that wos,” he muttered, shaking his head.

Ludwig studied his father for a moment and then pulled out his pocket knife.

“Are you willing to put blood on the line?”

Eldritch rolled his eyes and held out his hand.

“Never thought I’d live t’ see the day when my own flesh n’ blood would win me over t’ somethin’,” he muttered, clicking his tongue as Ludwig slit his thumb. “Almost proud. More annoyed, though.”

“I really don’t care what you feel, as long as you honor our agreement,” Ludwig muttered, slicing open his own thumb and pressing it against his father’s.

He quickly pulled away and cleaned his knife, stowing it again.

“The money will be transferred to your account as soon as I have access to a bank. If it does not appear in two week’s time, consider our deal null and void.”

“Addin’ a guarantee?” Eldritch snorted and sat back down, seemingly indifferent. “Pathetic. An’ wot’s t’ say I’ll honor this, anyway? Blood’s blood, but I’m not exactly a man of my ‘onor.”

“I’ve instructed certain members of the household to keep tabs on you as well,” Ludwig said quietly. “They’ll alert me should anything suspicious happen. The benefits, I suppose, of walking in good company. Even for a short while.”

Eldritch snorted and shrugged his shoulders.

“Ah, well. Was a weighted deal anyway. An’ a bit of a long shot, but you know I enjoy the hunt.”

“I know. Goodbye, Eldritch.”

“Ah, one second.”

Ludwig stopped and glanced at his father. Eldritch was looking at him curiously, his lips slowly pulling up into a sick grin.

“So. Was it true?”

“Was what true?” Ludwig asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Did you fuck th’ earl’s son. ‘E is rather charmin’. ‘Andsome. I wouldn’t blame you. A man ‘as needs.”

Ludwig shook his head and turned to leave.

“To be honest, I never noticed,” he said dryly. “It was just a job.”

He made his way down the hallway, his father’s laughter ringing in his ears.

It stuck with him long after he left the hospital and returned to the train station. He boarded the train and was shown to a private compartment. The last of the earl’s gifts. His suitcase was already there, and he picked it up off the rack and set it down in the seat next to him. He didn’t bother to spare the village a parting glance, too wrapped in his own thoughts. A part of him wished his father would break his word. Attempt an artifice to give him something to hunt. To ruin without fear of scorn or repercussion. But his words had stuck too deep, and the immediate lucre was too sweet a gift for Eldritch to jeopardize.

They pulled out of the station, heading West. The lights in his cabin came on, and he resigned himself to sleeplessness. With a little sigh he opened his suitcase, and then stopped.

Gilbert’s copy of Milton was sitting on top of his things, a small note attached to the cover. He opened it with trembling hands and read the brief message.

I believe you forgot this.

It is the pinnacle of impropriety to leave behind a gift, Mr. Schmidt.

Do try and be more careful in the future.

-Kirkland

Ludwig smiled very slightly as he reread the note, and then tucked it away in his breast pocket. He opened the book, flipping to the page that was heavily dog-eared. He curled up atop his seat, reading Gilbert’s little annotations and marks, his comments about Milton’s tautology and heavy-handedness, the little hearts he’d doodled in the corners, the faint traces of lead around the Ls that dotted the page. And in the very back, written in a much neater but still dear and familiar hand, the sole quote Gilbert had obviously taken pains to remember.

A mind not to be changed by place or time.  
The mind is its own place, and in itself  
Can make a heav’n of hell, a hell of heav’n.

Ludwig blinked his eyes as they began to sting, and had to close the book before the pages were ruined. He glanced out the window, at the mountains rising in the distance. The barren apple trees on the far side of the fence, their fruitless branches buffeted by the torrents of wind the train drove aside.

He leaned his head against the window frame, his eyes glassy as they stared dead beyond the crystal.

What was left, then.

He heard the shells fall around the train, saw the apple trees burn to embers for his eyes alone.

There would be no hunt, no grand end. No waves battering the shore, no sole survivor crawling from the pit, its fingers scratching for entrance at golden gates.

Reality was much simpler in her acridity. Victory a hollow pip, the fruit dead inside.

And all that remained of that world was a few traces of lead, scribbling out the words of Adam’s fall.


	25. Arc(a)dia (Peror(a)tion)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s a terrifying thing to bring to an end what has taken so much devotion to build. This has been the longest work I have written, and has given me confidence (however shaky) that I can set my goals higher.
> 
> I’m incredibly indebted to all of my wonderful friends who put spending time with me on hold while I slaved away over this silly thing and who helped edit, encourage, and brainstorm. They bore the brunt of many a horrible rant about the futility of writing, and I know without their patience I would have driven myself even crazier.
> 
> And to my readers, those who have been reading since the beginning, and any who may stumble upon this later and find something in it that brings them to the end: I cannot thank you enough. Your comments, reviews, and excitement were incredibly encouraging. I’m so touched that you all see something in my writing worth reading.
> 
> Thank you.

The snow had begun to melt on the top of the mountain.

It engorged the rivers, flooded their banks and hurled down the steep slopes. The newspaper, bought at the closest store an hour’s walk down the mountain, listed missing children and animals that had been washed away. Nets were cast from bank to bank, catching what they could.

One of the rivers curled through a small valley. Its speed slowed to a gentler brutality as it picked its way among the tall grasses and the first splashes of arrogant purples and reds and yellows dying the verdure. The river followed the dust road that led up from the village at the base and continued on to the sheep grazing lands above. It was rarely traveled. There were other paths that weren’t in danger of being washed away. A trail branched off of the main road, winding a ways up the slope, coming to rest in front of a small house. Two dogs lay in front of the humble structure, their bellies turned up to the sun. A third sat at attention, its eyes fixed on the road, large ears twitching.

Without warning, it suddenly let out a howl that echoed against the valley walls. In an instant the three dogs took off down the road, churning up dust and half-formed blossoms as they went.  
Ludwig stopped to check the mail at the little box at the end of the path, pushing sodden bangs out of his eyes. Nothing.

He barely had time to close the mailbox latch before his dogs beset him. He managed to fend them off; patting their heads to keep them appeased as he slowly trudged up the little path towards the house. He sat down to tug off his mud-caked shoes and leaned back against the porch, closing his eyes. Hours spent combing the river and nothing. It was exhausting work, but it got him out of the house, at least. Forced him to interact.

He winced as his back gave a rebellious twinge, and he slowly pushed himself to his feet, smiling at the dogs who all stared up at him with concern in their large, brown eyes.

“Don’t worry about me,” he murmured, rubbing his sentry dog behind the ears. “I’ve a few summers left in me yet.”

The dog whined quietly and pressed against his leg, its tail slowly thumping against the ground. Ludwig closed his eyes again, letting the sun warm his skin to something above frozen. For the past few days he’d been helping comb the river, and he could feel his body slowly shutting down. The villagers had noticed it too, and kept trying to offer him things. Food, clothing. Firewood. Welsh hospitality was far better than he’d expected. They still razed him once in a while for being English, but the teasing was easy enough to dismiss.

From inside the house came a little clanging noise, and all three dogs sat up, their eyes fixed on the door. Ludwig glanced over his shoulder and then finally pushed himself to his feet.

“Must be a window open,” he murmured, dusting himself off before opening the door to his house. He stepped inside, peering down the hallway into the kitchen. The window was shut. Frowning in puzzlement, he shut the door and went to check in the bedroom.

The house was small, but serviceable. No running water or electricity, but that wasn’t much of an issue. The river nearby was never dry, and the village was close enough that he could run down and buy whatever he needed. He’d inherited the farm from the herder who had helped him find a job. He’d sold the flock and started up a cobbler’s business, making use of the one trade his father had legitimately learned and passed on. He didn’t do much business, but the villagers liked him enough that it didn’t really matter. They were isolated, content to be so, and welcomed anyone who shared their insular world view.

The door behind him opened as the dogs forced their way inside, but Ludwig was too busy tracking the source of the noise to bother scolding them. The window in his bedroom was closed as well, and his frown deepened.

Curious.

With a little sigh he made his way towards the kitchen, intent on making a cup of tea or opening a can of soup to help with the chill.

Suddenly there came another clanging noise, followed by a very soft curse.

Ludwig froze, his eyes narrowing.

Who would bother to rob him? Bad enough he had to deal with a thief, but an incompetent one would draw out the process unnecessarily.

With a heavy sigh he stepped into the kitchen, ready to lunge at the intruder and oust them. Strange that the dogs hadn’t done so already. He glared down at them, and they just stared up at him, tongues out, tails wagging.

“You’re useless,” he muttered, and then turned the corner to look into the second half of the kitchen, where the stove and sink were.

A tall, rather built man was rifling through his cabinets, and even from a distance Ludwig could see that his suit was well tailored and the watch on his wrist probably could have bought the entire village.

Ludwig raised an eyebrow, waiting to be noticed, but the thief didn’t so much as turn around.

He cleared his throat.

“Excuse me.”

“Wha-!”

With a loud yelp of surprise the man jerked around, clutching Ludwig’s teapot to his chest. Ludwig opened his mouth to ask the man what in hell’s name he thought he was doing, but the words died on his lips.

He stared at the man in front of the stove, his whole body slowly growing far colder than any river could make it. Red eyes peered back at him, some of their roundness lost. Long fingers fiddled with the teapot before carefully setting it down on the counter and moving to anxiously twirl a lock of silver blonde hair.

Gilbert smiled weakly.

“I cannot tell you how glad I am that this is your house. The owners of the last one I broke into were very rude.”

Ludwig felt his mouth go dry and he had to sit down. The dogs whined and moved with him, the largest attempting to scramble up in his lap before he mumbled automatically, “Down, girl.”

Gilbert shied away from the dogs a bit, his angular face sporting a nervous smile.

“They weren’t too fond of me at first,” he said lightly, as though discussing the weather. “I had to retreat back down to the village and come back with a bribe. They’re horrible guard dogs, if you don’t mind my saying. Any thief with a steak and patience could break in.” He glanced around, his pointed nose wrinkling slightly. “Although I haven’t the slightest idea why anyone would want to…”

Ludwig swallowed heavily and stared at the other man. It was all he could do.

“I—how did you—”

The face that stared out at him from behind unkempt bangs was all angles and stark cheekbones, the sort of handsomeness that was reserved for Grimm’s heroes because for it to actually exist would be unfair. His whole body had been stretched, the top of his head reaching past Ludwig’s chin, and the well-tailored suit did little to hide the definition in his arms and chest. Whatever youth had clung to him in his teens had been rent away. He carried himself with the arrogant assurance of his class, perfectly polished, elegant. Distant.

Ludwig barely recognized him.

He gave up trying to speak, realizing how he must have looked in comparison. Completely sodden. Caked in mud. Wrinkles on his face and around his eyes, his hands calloused and rough again, his clothes well maintained but horribly plebian.

Ten years took a toll on someone his age.

“Now there’s an interesting story,” Gilbert said lightly, resting back against the counter, inspecting his fingernails. To anyone else, he would have appeared perfectly calm. Dismissive, even, but Ludwig caught the slight trembling of his lips, the way the red eyes darted to the side to look at him every few seconds, the catching of his throat, the way his long limbs creaked when he moved. “When every letter I attempted to send was quickly thwarted, I have to admit I started to give up hope. No…”

He furrowed his brow and turned back to the stove, clearing his throat.

“That isn’t – there was no starting. I did. Completely. I knew you hadn’t left the country, I had made sure you would be denied a passport if you applied for one because I was a horrible, scheming little youth but beyond that I had no leads whatsoever.”

He traced the handle of the teapot with the tip of his finger, and Ludwig could see him trembling even more.

“Ten years is a long time. Very long when it’s longer than half your life.”

Gilbert suddenly laughed and turned around again, the polite smile back on his face.

“So yes, I’m afraid I became rather boring for a period there. Extremely studios, my father was delighted. But one day a few months ago there was a newspaper article about automobile improvements, and they cited a story about some lord or another whose car had broken down and some old man out of the goodness of his heart had stopped and miraculously fixed it. The lord was so grateful he handed over a small fortune. The story rang familiar, and although I tried to let it go, for whatever reason the tenacity of my brain conspired against my will, and I found it haunting me.”

Gilbert pulled a small envelope out of his pocket and walked forward to hand it to Ludwig.

“Your father remains, as always, one step ahead,” he said, the humor in his voice gone. “He tracked you down via a bank transfer, and has been keeping tabs on you since. He was decidedly unhappy to see me, and it took a bit of persuasion before he was willing to part with any information. And even then all he said was that he knew you were in North Wales, and to pass this on to you, if I should find you.”

Ludwig slowly took the envelope and opened it. Inside was a small stack of bank notes and a little memo. It was written in Kirkland’s hand, and the edges were worn and the ink slightly faded with age.

I would advise taking better care of your funds.

Rest assured I have seen to it that their proper return to you in no way jeopardizes the agreement struck.

If ever this finds you, feel free to write the manor.

I will see to it that your message is delivered.

Ludwig ran his thumb over the note, closing his eyes.

“And you managed to track me down just from that?” he asked, wincing as a bit of an accent colored his speech. Gilbert didn’t seem to have noticed, and pulled up a chair across from Ludwig, perching himself on the very edge.

“It took a good deal more money and a good deal more time than I would have liked,” Gilbert admitted, folding his hands atop the table. “What craft you learned from your father you learned well.”

He smiled and glanced out the window, his eyes distant.

“But I seem to have remembered some things,” he said softly. “You would talk about the mountains, about isolation. Wanting pets and favoring the forest to the beach. Little things, details I wasn’t sure I even remembered properly or if time had simply concocted them of her own doing. My father didn’t want me to go, of course, but Eliza and Roderich insisted I should. The former because she’s a hopeless romantic, and the latter because he wanted me out of the house during their honeymoon period, I’m sure.”

His expression turned sour and his fingers tightened.

Ludwig frowned and sat up a bit.

“Then – Eliza…”

“Married Roderich, yes,” Gilbert said absently. “There was a period when everything devolved into a horrible cliché of a love triangle but that was soon put to rest when she caught me in flagrante. Needless to say any affection she had for me was quickly stifled, and Roderich’s devotion took care of the rest.”

Ludwig felt his heart seize, and he stared sadly across the table at the younger man.

“So you… you have someone?” he asked quietly, dreading to hear the answer.

Gilbert gave him an odd look and then let out a little breath.

“Farm—Ludwig, do you honestly think I would have spent months of my time and a small fortune traipsing around this sad little country searching for you just to sit down with a pot of tea and inform you that I’m quite happy with Frederick the darling son of the Earl of Bumswitch.”

His eyes softened and he stared down at the table.

“Happy people don’t do that sort of thing, Ludwig,” he said quietly. “They don’t devote their lives, however temporary, to trying to regain a memory. Or to attempting to create a better one to overwrite it. I wish I could tell you that there’d been no one else, but I won’t make myself any more of a liar than I already am.”

He lifted his head, a bitter expression on his face.

“I nearly ruined the sacrifice we both made trying to relive a few moments from when I was seventeen and in love. And it was empty and horrible. It cost me my fiancée, nearly cost me my title.”

His lips twitched upwards in an empty smile.

“And my father… he said he’d almost wished I’d slept with another boy instead. At least then there wouldn’t be the scare of a pregnancy, Eliza might have taken it better and been able to chalk it up to my sickness.”

Ludwig rested his hands atop the table as well, gently quieting the dogs when they started to whine.

“I see,” he said softly, his thumb pressing against a little knot in the surface of the wood.

The little house fell silent, and still Ludwig couldn’t lift his head. It was what he’d wanted, in a twisted way. For Gilbert to normalize himself. He’d thought that would end with him marrying Eliza, but it was still close enough.

He finally glanced up when Gilbert laughed quietly.

“You can’t even look at me,” the younger man said lightly. “I can’t blame you. I know – I look different, I’m not young and sweet anymore. I’m a terrible man who cheats on his fiancée and never learns his lesson, who gave up after only a few months of pathetic letter writing. My brattish temper isn’t cute on a man of my age.”

“That isn’t why,” Ludwig said softly. “And you know that.”

“Then why won’t you look at me?!”

Gilbert suddenly stood, a stricken look on his face. He ran his fingers through his hair in agitation, the gesture so familiar and dear Ludwig felt a little tug at his heart. The young lord began pacing, rambling to himself in increasingly agitated words.

“This isn’t at all how I pictured this going. I was to make a pot of tea, surprise you, you’d fall into my arms and be so impressed with my tenacity and you wouldn’t ask why it’s been ten years or what I’ve done, how my family is, you’d just accept me and then teach me how to light this damn stove because I have no idea how technology from the Dark Ages operates. And you were to kiss me and forgive me everything without my needing to confess and instead it’s discomfited and horrible and I’m so old I’m decrepit and you can’t even l-look at me…”

He pressed his hands against his face and sank to the floor. Ludwig quickly stood, concerned, but the dogs made it to Gilbert first. They stuck their wet noses against his face and in his hair, and kept returning even when Gilbert pushed them away, refusing to raise his head.

Ludwig watched the young lord for a moment and then moved to the stove. He filled the kettle, lit a match, and set the water to boil. He walked over to Gilbert’s side, gently nudging the dogs to make room. He sat on the floor in front of Gilbert, wincing as his back protested. He’d pulled something dragging that sheep out of the river. Dumb animal.

He sat in silence for a long while, staring at Gilbert who was still resting with his head buried against his arms. With a little sigh he finally reached out to lightly rest his hand against Gilbert’s hair.

“Thank you for finding me,” he said, his breath catching painfully at the feeling of the soft strands between his fingers.

Gilbert lifted his head very slightly, staring at Ludwig with an utterly miserable expression on his face.

“I don’t like who I’ve become,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve done everything I can think of to fix myself. I joined the Army – oh God, no, please don’t be upset.” He caught the sudden tension in Ludwig’s face. “A-As a medic. They wouldn’t let me join any other way, I have terrible eyesight, I would shoot everyone on our side by accident I know it. I went to medical school and then joined. I thought it would make my father happy and it did, it… it does. I know it does, I’m an officer, even though it’s not wartime that still counts for something. He said he was proud of me, my mother was so happy she wept.”

He laughed brokenly and pressed his hand against his face.

“T-They didn’t know – I joined… I joined to feel closer to you again. You used to tell me stories – the story of India, of the war and I saw what they did to you, how you’d cry out in your sleep and some sad part of me thought if I knew that horror too we could meet there, somehow. Crying together. But you were so brave and your stories were so wonderful, they were the last thing to leave me…”

A smile blossomed on Gilbert’s face, and he laughed as tears ran down his cheeks.

“And I fell for them because I was young and you were handsome and so, so good with words for someone of your station.”

Gilbert laughed again, the noise breaking.

“I’m a fool. I deserve every bit of this, don’t I? This unhappiness, farmhand, I deserve it. The thought of living another year as I have been is a torture I never thought I’d know. The house feels haunted. I live every day watching Eliza and Roderich fall more and more in love with one another and at first I dismissed it as jealousy. That I still somehow harbored feelings for her but it was something less tangible, less simple, and it’s been driving me mad. When I saw that article I thought –”

He ducked his head, the smile remaining stubbornly on his face.

“I thought that maybe… that God provided me that knowledge. For a brilliant moment, I thought He might pity me enough to love me despite my monstrous soul.”

Ludwig felt his hand move to his chest of its own accord, the sudden pain taking him completely by surprise. When they’d parted, he’d assumed Gilbert would follow through on his promise. That there would be another, that he would forget about the man he’d met when he was seventeen and naive. It had been simple but crucial, the lynchpin of Ludwig’s guilt, his sorrow at destroying them. If Gilbert ended happily, he would hate it, but he would be able to live with himself.

And now how could he? The boy he’d so desperately loved had grown into a broken man, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit with eyes no more alive than they had been the day they parted.

“Gilbert…”

The man’s name spilled unbidden from his lips, and Ludwig pressed a hand against his face, his eyes stinging. Gilbert chuckled and slowly leaned back against the wall, his head tilted up to stare at the ceiling.

“You said my name,” he murmured, the lines on his face softening. “I never thought I would hear it said properly again…”

One of the dogs whined softly, and Gilbert reached out to absently pet it. Ludwig remained silent, unsure of what to do or say. He didn’t know the man sitting on his floor, not really. There were traces but nothing enough to form an outline, something he could use to fill in the edges and assess properly.

“Your water’s boiling, farmhand.”

The soft voice jarred Ludwig out of his thoughts. He quickly pushed himself to his feet and went to pour the tea, letting his body move of its own volition. He brought the cups back to the floor, nudging the dogs away.

He gave Gilbert an apologetic smile.

“I’m afraid I don’t have sugar.”

Gilbert made a slight face, his pointed, pink tongue sticking out from between his lips just a bit.

“Honey?”

Ludwig shook his head.

“I’m too terrified to drink any dairy product you might have stashed away here.”

“Which is none. Clearly your luck continues,” Ludwig said softly.

Gilbert let out a bark of surprised laughter, his whole face lighting up for an instant. And in that moment Ludwig recognized him, truly. He picked up his cup and took a sip of tea to calm his nerves, but he couldn’t keep from smiling.

After a moment Gilbert followed suit, gagging a bit on the plain tea before a determined look came over him and he swallowed his mouthful. He set the cup aside and regarded Ludwig silently before he asked, “Are you at all happy to see me? I would have called, but you have no phone, and I would have written but as far as I can tell this little shack is not in the possession of anything as civilized as an address.”

“The mailbox is down the path there,” Ludwig said, pointing over his shoulder and fixing Gilbert with an exasperated look that for some reason made the younger man flush slightly.

“I see you still know how to make me feel five years old even ten years later,” he mumbled, fiddling with his cup.

“It wasn’t my intention, I can assure you, my l—”

Ludwig stopped, biting his lip.

Gilbert raised an eyebrow and hummed softly.

“And the training sticks. Kirkland must be commended.”

“Or shot,” Ludwig muttered, taking another gulp of tea. Gilbert laughed again, and for a moment his foot brushed against Ludwig’s.

“How did you find this place, anyway?” he asked, glancing around the small room. “It’s so… impecunious.”

“The polite word is ‘homey,’ Gilbert, and I inherited it from a sheep farmer,” Ludwig said dryly. He quickly held up a hand before Gilbert could speak. “No jokes. Not everyone in Wales raises sheep.”

“How rude. That isn’t what I was going to say at all,” Gilbert sniffed, moving a bit closer. He worried at his lip for a moment and then cleared his throat and looked away.

“You… you’ve aged remarkably well,” he said absently. “I half expected to find you bent over at the waist, hardly able to stand.”

Ludwig rolled his eyes, but there was a very small smile on his face.

“I’m thirty seven, Gilbert. Not eighty. I know you think being… what, twenty eight now means you’re suddenly an expert on gerontology, but I have to politely disagree.”

“Don’t remind me!” Gilbert wailed, bursting out laughing when the dogs joined him. He calmed down quickly and then sniffed. “I’m nearly thirty. It’s horrible.”

“You’re the age I was when I met you,” Ludwig pointed out. “Did you think I was old then?”

“Yes,” Gilbert said stubbornly. “You’re allowed to be older, though. That’s what you are. The older one. It’s only natural.”

“I mean this in the least offensive way possible, Gilbert, but I’m incredibly glad you didn’t stay seventeen your whole life,” Ludwig said seriously. “Some of the more superstitious villagers would probably throw you in the river or put you on trial for being a witch and –”

“God I’ve missed you,” Gilbert suddenly blurted out, his expression turning stricken in an instant. He moved forward, pulling himself towards Ludwig by resting his hands on the older man’s knees. “Ludwig I’ve missed you so much, this wasn’t how it was supposed to be I was supposed to sweep you off your feet with my mature charm and elegance and instead we’re back to taking pot shots at one another. But I don’t care, and if you’re not disgusted with me or angry or secretly poisoned the tea in a sort of Machiavellian scheme then please, please could you kiss me I’ve wanted it for so long I’ve missed you more than I thought possible outside of fiction, farmhand. I missed you, I missed you so much—”

Ludwig felt his eyes start to sting again, and it took all of two seconds of warring with himself to decide.

He rested his hand on the back of Gilbert’s head and pulled him in close, kissing him. For a horrifying moment it felt like kissing a stranger, his lips too thin and unfamiliar, his jaw having lost the softness it had once had, his voice slightly too deep, his skin too rough.

And then Gilbert kissed him back, and a quiet moan of pure relief eased past the younger man’s lips. He shifted, pressing their bodies together, and Ludwig thought for a moment to protest, thinking of his muddy clothes and Gilbert’s suit, but then the younger man’s fingers were in his wet hair, on his neck, his shoulders, and he forgot to be concerned.

It was a very long time before they pulled apart, Gilbert licking his lips to break the thin strand of saliva that connected them. There was a dazed look on his face, and Ludwig couldn’t help but lean forward to kiss his cheek again and press his face against the younger man’s shoulder. Slim fingers rested in his hair, absently playing with his hair.

“You’re horribly out of practice, farmhand,” Gilbert said quietly, his voice warm and soft against Ludwig’s ear. “Which is a bit of a double-edged sword for me.”

“The sheep were terrible practice partners. Too much teeth,” Ludwig muttered, tightening his arms around Gilbert’s frame. “God… you feel so different.”

Gilbert’s hand in his hair stilled.

“…Is that a problem?” he asked, his voice full of feigned indifference.

“No, my lord. It is not.”

Ludwig felt Gilbert relax, and after a moment he pushed himself up, one eyebrow raised.

“I didn’t fall in love with you because of your youth. I feel the need to remind you,” he said quietly.

“I know that,” Gilbert muttered, twisting his hands in his shirt. “Allow me my paranoia. It wasn’t exactly easy to build the courage to face you again. I wasn’t sure you’d be glad to see me. It was a fifty-fifty bet.”

“What were the two scenarios?” Ludwig asked quietly, brushing Gilbert’s hair out of his eyes.

Gilbert mumbled to himself for a second and then let out a little sigh.

“The first was that you’d be so ecstatic to see me you’d fall to your knees weeping uncontrollably. Then I would get to be the bigger man and comfort you. It was very romantic, I promise.”

Ludwig snorted and brushed his thumb over Gilbert’s jaw, taking in the new angles and curves of his face.

“And the second?”

Gilbert fell quiet for a moment, his eyes fixed on the floor.

“That I would cause you to hate me,” he finally said. “You would accuse me of squandering what we’d given up. That I was foolish to track you down just to jeopardize my future again. I know – at least I believe that would still be of concern to you.”

“And it is,” Ludwig admitted, resting his hands in his lap. He tugged Gilbert a bit closer, his legs on either side of the younger man’s slim hips. “A part of me is very angry that you’re risking so much just to see me for… a few hours? A day? How long can you possibly stay here?”

“A day is pushing it,” Gilbert said dryly. “I’ve yet to see one hint of indoor plumbing.”

“And you won’t find any, but you know that’s not what I meant,” Ludwig said quietly. “Unless you’ve abandoned your title and your home, which I hope you haven’t, you can’t stay here. And I can’t go back with you. I know you had to have realized that.”

“I did. I do, I mean, I know…” Gilbert said, his voice falling. “And I haven’t renounced anything. I’m still set to inherit, but—”

He fell quiet for a very long time and then let out a tired sigh.

“Eliza’s already talking about having children,” he mumbled, fiddling with his sleeve. “And my father has resigned himself to thinking of me as a permanent bachelor. I’ll still inherit the manor, but he said that he expects no children from me. Which was both a relief and a burden.”

He smiled, the expression empty.

“My mother was upset. She loves Eliza like she’s her own daughter, and Roderich too, but this isn’t what she wanted for me. My parents have grudgingly accepted my disinterest in carrying on our branch of the family. The name will continue on with Roderich, and this is hardly unprecedented – far from it – but I still feel as though I failed them. Even after they’ve forgiven me so much.”

Ludwig listened silently, his hand resting on Gilbert’s forearm as he tried to offer what comfort he could. The concept was completely alien to him, but grief was universal.

“That they forgave you shows how much they do truly care about you,” he said softly, reaching out to grab Gilbert’s chin and tilt his head back. Gilbert shook his head and rubbed at his jaw, giving Ludwig a slightly odd look.

“…No one’s done that to me since I was a kid,” he mumbled by way of explanation.

Ludwig quickly withdrew his hands, his stomach sinking.

“My apologies. Old habits,” he said quietly.

Gilbert waved his hand, but he shifted uncomfortably.

“I still feel strange. Being in front of you like this,” he admitted. “And as I said, I wasn’t sure how you’d react, so I didn’t really think this through. I felt and still do that this was something I simply had to do. And I hope… I hope you can forgive me my selfishness.”

“It’s done,” Ludwig said plainly, laughing when Gilbert hit his shoulder.

“Farmhand – I agonized over this! You can’t be so flippant,” he complained, a little smile on his face.

“Shouldn’t I be thanked rather than hit for helping suppress your compunction?” Ludwig asked, his heart nearly bursting as Gilbert smiled at him. Too late he realized there were tears trailing down his cheeks, and Gilbert’s expression soon fell.

“…Ludwig?”

“Ah… sorry,” Ludwig muttered, scrubbing at his face. “This is the most I’ve spoken to anyone in a very long while. You’ll have to forgive me if I’ve grown unaccustomed to it.”

“…It’s fine,” Gilbert said quietly, but he seemed to be worrying at something. He cleared his throat and then asked as offhandedly as was humanly possible, “So you… live alone?”

Ludwig raised an eyebrow at the question, but took pity on Gilbert.

“Since the farmer died, yes,” he said quietly. “And before then as well.”

Gilbert licked his lips nervously, fiddling with his fingers.

“And… you’ve not met anyone…”

“I have not,” Ludwig said. “I found myself lacking interest.” He smiled bitterly. “And there aren’t many who would like to keep the company of an ex-soldier. You were the odd exception to that.”

“Well I am odd, I suppose,” Gilbert murmured, but there was a very small smile on his lips. He pressed a hand against his face, seemingly overcome with something before he let out a sharp breath.

“There is another reason for my visit, I have to say.”

Ludwig frowned and raised another eyebrow.

Gilbert nodded and smiled at him, a slightly weary look on his face.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “I think ten years is a very good trial period. A bit too long, perhaps, but I am throwing in the towel. You seem to be surviving, at least, but I am very close to abandoning all pretenses of.”

“What are you saying?” Ludwig asked, just a bit panicked. “Gilbert, are you –”

“Nothing so macabre,” Gilbert said with a little grimace. “Please.”

He lifted his head again, staring straight into Ludwig’s eyes.

“My grandmother has invited me to go overseas with her. To America. Boston or New… something or other. Not York, the other one. I can’t remember, and it doesn’t matter.”

He took Ludwig’s hands in his own, and the pleading look in his eyes made Ludwig’s heart stop.

“…Come with me?”

Ludwig stared at Gilbert, a look of utter shock on his face.

“I—w-with you?” he asked, his voice catching. “Gilbert, I—I’m not your valet anymore. I’m not anything, I’m not even a farmer or a proper cobbler. There’s no way –”

“You’re still a member of the Armed Forces, aren’t you?” Gilbert said softly, pressing a kiss to the back of Ludwig’s hand. “I’ll have you transferred to work under me. I just fired my assistant – completely incompetent. That’s more of a reason to take you with me for the duration of my stay overseas. And when we return, I’ll move out of the manor until I inherit it. I can have apartments secured for us in London, I’ve plenty of money and now that Eliza and Roderich are living their happy blissful wedded life in the manor my leaving won’t be seen as odd. My parents know how upset their marriage made me.”

“But I—I don’t know the first thing about medicine,” Ludwig tried to protest, his voice growing weaker as Gilbert kissed his palm, his wrist. “I’ve already served my tours, I don’t even know if they’ll accept a transfer –”

“They will,” Gilbert said simply, his voice full of a quiet confidence that made Ludwig feel weak. “I’m a lord now, Ludwig. A proper one.” He smirked. “It’s quite funny to watch them squirm when I glare. I can’t imagine most officers are used to being ordered around by a medic.”

Ludwig fell silent, unsure how to counter any further. He met Gilbert’s eyes, his own rather sad.

“…And if your father finds out?” he said quietly.

Gilbert fell silent for a long moment, his fingers tightening around Ludwig’s.

“If he finds out, then… he finds out,” he said finally, closing his eyes and leaning against Ludwig’s chest. “I’m not seventeen any longer. He’s proven once he’s unwilling to prosecute someone I care for. I know testing that resolve isn’t the wisest course of action, but it seems a safe enough one to risk it.”

He pushed himself up again, and Ludwig met his eyes, his own unsure.

“If you don’t want to, then… obviously I won’t abduct you or otherwise force you to come against your will,” he said quietly, resting his hand against Ludwig’s scratchy cheek. He didn’t seem to notice the stubble, his thumb gently brushing just underneath Ludwig’s eye. “But if any amount of begging or pleading or bribery or anything short of kidnapping will help persuade you, then I’m sorry, farmhand, but I’m willing to stoop to its depths.”

Ludwig was stunned into silence, trying to wrap his mind around the offer. To leave… He’d known nothing but the mountain and the village for ten years. His time with Gilbert was a painful, hazy memory he’d kept buried for that entire time. There was so much that could go wrong. Gilbert could lose his inheritance, his title, his job. They could both be prosecuted now for misconduct, his family could turn their backs on him. The only thing they didn’t have to worry about was Eldritch, and even that was no sure bet. And Ludwig was older now, nearly forty, and he could feel his age in his bones, the years of labor taking their toll on him far quicker than they would someone of Gilbert’s station.

But still Gilbert touched him. This lord, an earl, who had spent a decade a stranger to him, had begged to be kissed. To be let back into the poor man’s life.

And Ludwig still loved him.

He closed his eyes and leaned forward to press his forehead against Gilbert’s, his arms wrapping loosely around his waist.

Gilbert tilted his head slightly to brush his nose against Ludwig’s, his voice questioning, and timid when he spoke. Hardly that of a tyrannical lord.

“So… you’ll come?” he asked softly.

Ludwig tightened his grip around Gilbert’s waist, pulling back very slightly to brush his lips against the younger man’s.

“Yes, my lord,” he said quietly, a smile breaking out over his weathered face when Gilbert gasped. “For as long as you’ll have me.”

For a moment Gilbert remained perfectly still, not even breathing.

And then he was kissing Ludwig, so hard that they fell back against the floor, startling the dogs who broke out into concerned howls. Gilbert did his best to bat them away, still kissing Ludwig who was laughing against Gilbert’s lips, their legs entwining, frenzied heartbeats resonating with sheer relief and joy.

Gilbert was the first to break the kiss to yell at the dogs to be quiet, but remained sprawled on top of Ludwig, a little smirk on his face.

“I’m not crushing you, am I? Old man.”

Ludwig rolled his eyes and lightly hit the back of Gilbert’s head.

“Nearly thirty and I’m sure I could still lift you with one hand,” he grumbled, trying to look stern and failing horribly.

“Yes, yes, no doubt your atrophied yet superior lower class musculature could handle a menial task like that,” Gilbert said dismissively, picking himself up. “Farmhand I am appalled that you haven’t offered me anything to eat.”

Ludwig picked himself up and dusted off his clothes, glancing at Gilbert.

“Your suit is ruined, by the way. I hope you know,” he pointed out, heading over to the pantry to see if he had anything to fix.

“I can buy another one,” Gilbert said, sitting at the table, glancing around the room. His eyes fell upon the bookshelf and he immediately sprang up again and made his way over. Ludwig kept an eye on the young lord as he rifled through his things. Gilbert plucked a book off the shelf, chuckling under his breath.

“Paradise Lost. I thought I’d misplaced it. Fitting for the title,” he murmured, his fingers tracing the worn spine. “This is my copy, yes?”

“Of course it is,” Ludwig said, abandoning the apples and potatoes he had stashed away in favor of moving to Gilbert’s side. “I’ve read it more times than I could count.”

Gilbert made a little face, but brought the book to the table. “Why on earth would this be the book you selected to bring with you?” he asked, flipping it open and skimming the margins. “At least pick something exciting. Dumas, Melville… there’s plenty of others.”

“It was the only book I hadn’t returned to you yet. Kirkland put it in my things,” Ludwig explained, taking a seat next to Gilbert. “Is he still working at the manor, by the way?”

“Of course. I think he’ll die serving dinner at the age of a hundred and fifty. He wouldn’t allow anything else,” Gilbert murmured, obviously becoming absorbed in the book. He stopped on the dog eared page, his fingers tracing the discolored drops that had smeared the lead and ink.

“…You missed me too, didn’t you,” he said slowly, a note of wonder in his voice.

“I did. Very much,” Ludwig said quietly, turning the page for Gilbert. He’d made his own notes over the years, very few of them to not compete with their original master’s. But one mark stood out, and Gilbert’s finger paused over it. His eyes widened slightly and he lifted his head, a look of beauty, tragic and lost and hopeful on his face.

Ludwig gave a very small nod and leaned down to press his lips softly against Gilbert’s, the book falling closed as their fingers abandoned it. The warped and torn pages slowly kissed, hiding the cherished words from view.

So dear I love him, that with him all deaths  
I could endure, without him live no life.

Endure the fall for him.

The light that led you out of hell.

-Fin-


End file.
